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ABBA SS A H, 

V 

AN ARABIAN- TALE. 



IN TWO CANTOS. 



k 



Oh Love ! what is it in this world of ours, 

That makes it fatal to he loved ? — Ah why 
With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, 

And 'made thy best interpreter a sigh ? . 
As they who doat on odours pluck the* flowers 

And place them on their breast, but place to die ; 
So the frail beings we would fondly cherish 
Are laid within our bosoms but to perish ! 

BYRON. 

But ties around this heart were spun • ■ 

That would not, could not be undone ! 

o'connor's child. 



LONDON : 
W. ANDERSON, WATERLOO PLACE, PALL MALL. 



MDCCCXXVI. 



a 



-9£ ^ ' 



TO 



JAMES WINDOW, ESQ. 



THIS WORK IS DEDICATED 



AS A FEEBLE OFFERING OF GRATITUDE AND ESTEEM 



FROM THE 



AUTHOR. 



The following tale relates the catastrophe of the beautiful 
and accomplished Abbassah, the sister of the Caliph Haroun 
Al Rashid, and who was married by command of that mon- 
arch to his favourite, the celebrated Vizier Giaffier, but 
upon condition that the wedded pair should never meet except 
in his presence. The lovers, however, violated this condition, 
and a child privately borne by the Princess was sent for safety 
to Mecca. The treachery of a slave revealed the secret to 
the Caliph, who at first dissembling his resentment, set out 
on a feigned pilgrimage to Mecca, for the purpose of dis- 
covering the infant. Failing in this, at his return he ordered 
the favourite to be executed, and the Princess to be stripped 
and driven from the royal palace ; she long wandered through 
the neighbourhood in the utmost distress, with no other 
covering than a rude sheep-skin, and subsisting with difficulty, 
and upon alms. 

From many different versions of the story the most simple 
has been selected, and the lines 803 to 814 are little more 
than a translation of the verses addressed by Abbassah to her 
husband shortly after their marriage. 

I have attempted to give the speakers in this tale an 
Oriental turn of thought and expression, and have hazarded 
some Eastern conceits in the Persian narrative of Mundir. 



ABBASSAH. 



ABBASSAH. 



CANTO I. 

'Tis sweet, beneath the moonlight ray 

On DegialaV side, 
To watch the rushing currents stray, 
And mark the falling moonbeams play 

Upon the rippling tide ; 
Whose arrowy waters eager flow, 
And glancing meet that silver glow ; 
While smoothly glides across its breast 

Yon darken'd speck — the Kufa 2 boat, 
Or the tired steersman, sunk to rest, 10 

Trusts to the waves his ozier 3 float, 
That, fraught with Bochtan's ore, or grain 
The golden growth of BethV plain, 
From rich Moussul adventured down, 
Seeks safely the imperial town. 

b 2 



4 ABBASSAH. canto I. 

The evening breeze hath ceased to rave ; 

The branching palms no longer wave, 

But, fix'd and motionless on high, 

Stand out against the distant sky. 

The bird is nestling on his bough, 20 

The city's sounds are silent now ; 

Yon towers beneath the midnight blaze 

In soften'd shadows shun the gaze, 

While gleams each gilded fane afar 

With quivering rays, a mimic star, 

That idly mocks in dancing light 

Creation's pause — the noon of night ! 

Now parching herb and withering flower 

Drink the cool dew's refreshing shower : 

Slow yielded to the gazer's eye 80 

Unveils its depths yon dark blue sky, 

And radiant in that hour serene 

Glows thy fair orb, night's pensive Queen ! 

All hush'd and still : above, around ; 

The glowing stars — the darken'd heath — 
Till stillness self beseems a sound, 

A whisper, light as slumber's breath ; 
And the deep Muezin's call, as clear 
It falls upon the distant ear, 



CANTO I. AHBASSA1I. 5 

A lonely strain of chaunted song 40 

That sweeps at times the waste along, 

Dies, mingling with the dying breeze 

In wild, unearthly harmonies, 

As though in hours to silence given 

Rose Nature's voice, and told of Heaven. 

Land of the Sage ! — once proud and free, 

Why sleeps the harp of fame for thee ? 

O'er thy green plains no descant rings, 

No hand for thee awakes the strings ; 

And withered from thy morning prime 50 

Thou slumber'st in the lap of Time ! 

Thy sons — a feeble, dastard race, 

Heirs of a name their deeds disgrace, 

In shadowy folds thy glory shroud, 

And dim its beams in fiction's cloud ; 

Nor, sunk in sloth and shame, aspire 

To wake one spark of former fire. 

Yet, by the voice of ages crown'd, 

Thy scatter'd ruins sleep around 

And consecrate the hallow'd ground ; 60 

Though there the tale of ages gone 

Nor column marks, nor storied stone, 



6 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO I. 



Thy mountain heaps and mighty name 

Speak more than proudest records claim ; 

And shapeless, vast, and wild, impart 

Their silent lesson to the heart. 

While he, who, lingering, loves to gaze 

On the wide waste of other days, 

And gather from the depths of time 

Memorials of that hour sublime, 70 

When, waken'd from its long repose, 

The star of Ashur's might arose, 

And scorching in that noontide heat 

Earth lay in dust before his feet, — 

Feels, bending o'er Oblivion's brink, 

His soul subdued and spirit sink ; 

So far beneath his dizzy eye 

Those lessening wrecks of empire lie ; 

So vain his task to disengage 

Its traces from the moulder 1 d page. 80 

Nor yet bereft the haunted ground 

Of all in ancient records told, 
Where erst in earthly pomp they frown'd, 

Her kings, the mighty once and bold. 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 7 

There, girt with gorgeous pageants round, 
Their shadowy empire still they hold ; 

And peopling plain and ruin'd mound, 
They wander, wild and uncontroird. 

And oft — for thus in Kowsha's vale 

Reports the darkly whisper'd. tale — 90 

Oft will the wondering peasant's eye 

The spirits of the passed descry, 

And count the aerial forms that dwell 

In sullen tower or secret dell, 

As, mindful of their ancient reign, 

They seek their subject realms again. 

There, too, the genii of the air, 

Slaves of the mystic seal, repair, 

Coerced to nightly toil, and raise 

The structures of departed days ; 100 

That still in midnight splendours gleam, 

But vanish with the morning beam. 

Here, musing in that lonely hour, 
Recall the pride of earthly power : 
Kings who the light of glory flung 
O'er time, while time as yet was young ; 



8 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO I. 



But now their names, long passed away, 

Survive but in the immortal 4 lay 

Where, lost in fiction's thousand dyes, 

Sinks the pale gleam that truth supplies. 110 

All that of great and glorious show 

In history's page or fancy's glow ; 

All that the mind would fain believe, 

All the wrapt spirit can conceive 

Of mortal might, and charmed spell, 

That moved the powers of air and hell, 

And dared the Holiest on his throne 

To re-assert his rights alone ; 

Past splendours of a matchless race, 

That, vanish'd, leave no fabled trace, 120 

As phantasms of a gorgeous dream 

That on the waking senses beam, 

And leave upon the dubious mind 

So deep, so bright, their forms behind, 

We feel their glittering hour has been — 

Here mingle in the shadowy scene. 

Here, scarce conceived by mortal eyes, 
Creation's earliest lords 5 arise, 






CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 9 

Founders of empire ! — could an hour 

Set limits to that boundless power, 130 

Nor sea, nor air, nor earth retain 

One fragment of the golden chain ? 

Their mighty deeds and glorious doom 

Distinguish^ but by deeper gloom, 

Far through the gathered mists of time 

They tower in giant state sublime ; 

Their height but seen as radiant 6 clouds, 

Their base, the veil of ages shrouds. 

Here may thy thought the footsteps trace 7 

Of him, the Mighty of the chase, 140 

Who brought the savage from his den, 

And built eternal walls for men ; 

Where rose the tower, whose Titan pride 

The boundless cope of heaven defied, 

Piercing the depths of air, to scan 

The starry powers that influence man. 

Presumptuous man ! thy tower, thy trust, 

For ever shatterM, sinks to dust ; 

Despite thy pride — supreme, unknown 

The mysteries of th 1 Eternal throne ; 150 



12 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

And yon red fires' unceasing gleams 

Flash baleful midst unearthly screams, 

There, reining with impetuous hands 

The winged steed, Thamuras 10 stands, 

While demons strained in bands of steel 

Gnash writhing at his chariot wheel. 

High on his helm the Simurgh plume 200 

Floats, omen of resistless doom ; 

Fierce as when trembling Ginnistan 

Confessed the victor-steps of man, 

When to the Peri's aid he came 

With charred cuirass and sword of flame, 

And warring fiends in vain essay'd 

The dread Sipar's impervious shade, 

Unharm , d in even the etherial fight 

Where sank the last Preadamite. 

Heard ye that sound ! — it dies — again ! — 210 

Whence wakes afar that mystic M strain ? 

Hark ! rising o'er the listening deep 

How wild, how wide its echoes sweep, 

As viewless choirs, dispersed around, 

Receive — prolong the sacred sound ! 



I an TO I. ABB ASS AH. 13 

Borne thro 1 mid-air it floats along 

In liquid notes of angel song, 

Etherial, holy, melting, dear 

As sink upon the slumbering ear, 

When far Eolian murmurs roll 220 

Their dreamy rapture on the soul. 

Now high th' ascending cadence swells, 

Now, nearer pealing, deeper dwells ; 

Earth, ocean, air, the skies, rejoice 

To join that universal voice, 

As poured in deepening volumes round 

It spreads— a loud expanse of sound ; 

Heard, felt, in all — through all — alone, 

Creation heaves — a pulse — a tone; — 

And Being trembles on its sigh, 230 

Dissolving into harmony ! 

And see — the heavenly portals blaze. 
Wide-opening with refulgent rays, 
Whence fiery streams in ceaseless flow 
Of living splendours flash below ! 
It comes — it comes ! — yon effluence bright 
Descending, pours a flood of light ; 



14 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

It scatters — spreads : — above, around, 

Bright, lucid forms a throne surround, 

With crown-encircled brows that wear 240 

The beamy blaze no eye can bear, 

And lavish roses fragrance shed, 

And lilies spring where'er they tread. 

Wheeling their dance in rapid maze 

They meet and mock the dazzled gaze ; 

Half lost, save as the rainbow flings 

Its mingling glories from their wings, 

That, waving, scatter o'er the sky 

The rustling breath of zephyr's sigh. 

And silver censers, flaming, breathe 250 

Delight in many a rising wreath, 

Where clouds of odorous sweets dispense 

A fragrant languor o'er the sense : 

And aerial voices raise the song ; 

And golden harps the notes prolong ; 

And, wide around, etherial flowers 

Thick-scattered, fall in snowy showers ; 

And glowing shapes, — unknown, yet fair, — 

Glance by — resolve — and melt in air ; 

And starry gleams, and purple hues, 260 

Transpicuous, all the scene suffuse ; 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 15 

And bright, and fast-commingling rise, 
Till air, overcharged, to mortal eyes 
Floats palpable with radiant dyes. 

And he, who thus, supreme, alone 

Reclines upon the jewelled throne ; 

That form of light 12 , whose hallow'd head 

The peacock's emerald plumes o'erspread ; 

Beneath whose feet the clustered vine 

Dissolves in streams of gushing wine ; 270 

For whom the mirror'd gem displays 

Each change, each form of fate that strays 

The wide unknown's mysterious maze ; 

Whose voice along the golden spheres 

Recalls the erring flight of years ; 

He, whilst adoring myriads kneel, 

But lifts on high the signet seal, 

And lo ! yon rising wonder shines 

With all the wealth of orient mines, 

Where genii labours raise afar 280 

Thy faery splendours — Istekar ! 

'Tis past at once : — the jewell'd throne, 
Blaze, song, and pageant, — all are gone ; 



16 ABB ASS AH. 



CANTO I. 



And far as eye can reach around 

Instinct with life the blacken'd ground. 

Voice, sound is hushed : — the general eye 

Intently gazing, fixed on high, 

Till the loud peal that rends the air 

Bends the mute mass in prostrate prayer. 

Thick as the crowded shadows 13 rose 290 

Before the first of human-kind, 
When favouring Allah deigned disclose 

His offspring's numbers to his mind, 
Princes, and chiefs, and rulers, swarm 
To bow before the golden form ; 
Since he, whose pride of might disdains 
The kneeling slaves, their will constrains. 
He, sate with pomp and power ; elate 
In conscious strength ; secure of fate ; — 
Earth shadow'd by his shade, the sky 300 

Seems from his haughty grasp to fly, 
And heaven's high lord his lord no more : — 
A "moment — and that dream is o'er ! 
To thee, 14 Oh King ! the warning spoke — . 
Crushed, — shattered by the viewless stroke, 
The idol falls ; — the clay is broke ; — 
Blasted that trunk, and rent the bough, 
The band of iron binds him now. 



CANTO I. 



ABBASSAII. 17 



Moons wane, years pass, and midnight dews 

CTer that worn frame their chills effuse, 31 

Sunk to the beast : — the desart lair 

His sole asylum of despair ; 

Till, humbled by th' avenging rod, 

He feels and owns the mightier god. 

Look where afar th 1 impregnate air 

Burns, reddening in the deepen'd glare 

Where countless torches shame away 

The fainter fires of dying day. 

There the loud harp, the timbrel's strain, 

The song, the revel, shake the plain ; 320 

For Susa's thousand l5 chiefs repair 

And Susa's loveliest forms are there, 

And golden gleams with glancing ray 

Of pearl and gem commingling play ; 

While from long ages' ample hoard 

Spoils of a hundred nations poured 

In lavish splendour load the board ; 

There too, profaned by impious sight, 

The hallow'd goblets grace the rite, 

For Triumph spreads the feast to night ; 530 



18 ABBASSAII. * CAXTO I. 

And o'er that wild debauch of pride 
The youthful Monarch shall preside. 



See, where attendant sovereigns wait, 

He sits enshrined in purple state ; 

His eye's broad glow, his flushing cheek, 

That hour's unmingled transport speak ; 

And as above the festal band 

The sacred wine- cup decks his hand, 

With glance of conscious courtesy proud 

Half bending to that maddening crowd, 340 

His lips approach its mantling brim : — 

And every eye but turns on him, 

And waving hands are raised on high, 

And joyous voices swell the cry, 

And timbrels, lutes, and haT'ps resound ; 
And echoing roofs his name declare, 
And cymbal-clank, and trumpet-blare, 
And gong's thick din is thundering there, 

To pledge What silence sinks around ! — 

What dims the triumph of that brow ? 350 

Why falls th' untasted wine-cup now ? 
Hushed is the harp — the shout — the song — 
And scattered fly th' affrighted throng ; — 



CANTO I. 



ABBASSAH. 19 



Yet, rooted to the lofty throne, 

Why stands the monarch — fixed — alone ? 

Alas ! — where quench'd in living fire 

The torches' fainting gleams expire, 

Too well his fate-struck eye surveys 

The shadowy hand — the mystic blaze ! 

There stands the fearful doom reveal'd, 360 

His days, — his kingdom, — number'd — seal'd. 

Even as he reads the glowing walls 

The torrent bursts — the rampart falls — 

And, answering to the Hebrew's word, 

Peals the wild cry of conquest heard ! 

His feast is blood ! — his sceptred power 

Is broken — vanish'd — in an hour ; 

And weighed, and wanting in the scale, 

His life is but a dreamer's tale ! 

Yon western glow 16 faint lingers yet — '370 

It was his empire's sun that set ; 

Secure in conscious glory then — 

Now, trampled by the feet of men ! 

Eve saw his pride : the scarce gray morn 

Beholds his midnight splendours shorn, 

c2 







20 



ABBASSAH, 



Another to his throne succeed, 
His kingdom subject to the Mede ; 
And this his night of boundless bliss — 
His boast — his banquet — spread for this ! 



CANTO 1. 



But where the Persian's kingdom ? — Torn 
And scatter'd by the he-goafs l7 horn, 
When the fierce scourge of Roumi's war 
In blood-dyed vengeance comes from far 
To plant on Asia's trembling plain 
The standards of Olympian reign. 
Son of the Mighty ! — Thou, who wept 
When peace beneath thy sceptre slept, 
That not submitted earth could yield 
The transports of another field : 
Lord of the world ! — could fear l8 with stay 
Or fortune bar thy conquering way, 
And to the might of victory's pride 
The victor's triumph be denied ? 
Lo, as the dying prophet scann'd 
From Pisgah's heights the promised land 
Whose honied vales and waters bright 
Must never glad his nearer sight ; 



380 



390 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. £1 

Thou too yon lofty towers shalt see ; 

Their gates unclosed, but not for thee ! 

High o'er those walls thy banners spread, 400 

That threshold stops the conqueror's tread ; 

And dark the thickening portents grow 

With presages of pending woe. 

Here find'st thou — deem'd in vain foretold — 

The iron soil and sky of gold ; 

Doomed at thine l9 Irenes gate to swell 

The dread firman of Azrael : 

Here must thy hope's wide prospect end ; 

Here heaven's proud child to dust descend ; 

Thy might surviving but in fame, 410 

Thy boundless empire in a name ; 

And all that earth affords thee here, 

Remnant of conquest's vast career, 

To choose from out her realms — a bier ! 

How — thy far course of glory run, — 

From kingdoms sack'd and conquests done 

Sink'st thou in death — immortal one ! 

While she, who spread thine early tomb, 

And wept her vanquish'd victor's doom, 

Still in thy fall exults to miss 420 

The flames of lost Persepolis. 



22 ABBASSAH. CANTO l. 

And yet thy'vaunted reign is o'er, 

Lady of Kingdoms ! — now no more ! 

And Mithra's worshipped beams decline 

Before the lunar crescent's shine, 

Where slaughter' d heaps, in carnage crush'd, 

Defile the fires of Zeratusht*. 

The camel's wand'ring driver late — 

His is the hour, the star of fate ! 

Bow to the rule of heavenly might — 430 

'Tis he, who on 20 Al Merag's night 

Explored the Empyrean height ; 

HaiPd by seven skies, who track'd alone 

The infinite, to Allah's throne, 

And gazed, as darkening round his way, 

Mysterious worlds unfathom'd lay ; 

Saw life evolve unnumber'd forms 

Where uncreated spirit swarms ; 

Where Light's pure fount resplendent plays 

Through hues of many colour'd rays, 440 

One various, universal blaze, 

Shaming earth's gems : — there, dazzled, bent 

Before th' unveil'd Omnipotent ; 

* Zoroaster. 



' 



canto i. ABBASSAH. 23 

And felt immortal essence dart 

In icy dullness through his heart. 

There scann'd, with nature's mortal thrill, 

The marvels of Almighty will : 

The void, immense, immeasured deep, 

Where Thought, and Hope, and Silence sleep ; 

Eternity's unbounded place, 4-50 

Where Matter co-extends with Space ; 

Creation's source; — Time's pathless range ; — 

Existence, present — without change ! 

See, to his eye, by heaven unseal'd, 

The angel-penned Koran reveal'd ; 

That gives Arabia's raging horde 

The sacred law, and slaughtering sword, 

While Thou — too fruitful womb of faith — 

Must yield to his command, or death. 

Thou too obey'st the Prophet's will ; 460 

His star illumed, — illumes thee still : 

But Thou ! — in desolation bowed 

Amidst thy silent ruins proud, 

Whose 21 stagnant pools the breezes' sigh 

Alone disturbs, or bittern's cry : — 

Thou golden cup whence nations drunk ! 

Thou volume in the waters sunk ! 






24 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

Beholding thro"* thy long decay 

Creeds — Empires — rise, and pass away, 

When shall thy place on earth be o'er ? 470 

When Babylon be known no more ? 

Lone relics of a mighty line 

W T hose records mock our narrow scan ; 

Yet stamp'd on earth their lasting sign 

That proudly claims a source divine ; 

While pilgrims bow before the shrine 
Where ruin toils to humble man ! 

Pause ere thou pass that hallow'd bound, 

Nor lightly rend the veil between ; 
Pause — for the place is holy ground, 480 

Where wonder dwells— enshrined around— 
Nor break the sacred sleep profound 

Of grandeur's last, deserted scene. 

Their halls are mute ! — Their glory fled I 

Their roofless temples desolate ! 
Their chambers are the foxes bed ; 
Their courts resound 22 thy courser's tread ; 
And mouldering piles gigantic spread 

Their fragments in the broken gate ! 



CANTO I. ABB ASS AH. 25 

There, — where of earth's imperial crown 490 

Once blazed the purest, proudest gem ; 

There — thro" the broad, bright moon shines down — 

Involved in midnight horrors brown 

The rugged masses darkly frown ; — 
And hast thou, dreamer, peopled them ! 



Pure, sacred scene of soft repose ! 

If here even childhood 23 conscious strays, 
Or man, with riper feeling, knows 

The charm of that unclouded blaze ; 
Or while from memory's aged eye 500 

The darken' d present disappears ; 
And, lost in joys that still seem nigh, 
Will wandering fancy fondly fly 

To dreams of earliest years ; 
Oh ! can your smile no peace impart 
To calm the tortures of the heart ; 

No sweetness to atone ? — 
Or boast ye but a spell to still 
The throb of each remember'd ill, 

Save love's wild pangs alone ? 510 






26 ABBASSAH. CAXTO T. 

And see — beneath the Sunbur gloom 24 
That half conceals yon lonely tomb, 

Where the pale moonbeam sleeps ; 
Yon faded form, that, prostrate thrown, 
Like statue rooted to the stone 

There motions not, nor weeps ; 
Or rising now with hurried air 
And aimless gesture of despair, 
Upturns towards Heaven the glassy eye 
Of changeless, deep despondency. 520 

Down that fair neck the raven tress 
Floats wild in utter heedlessness : 
The drooping lids those orbs that veil, 
The bloodless lip, the forehead pale, 
And eyes whose vacant gleams betray 
That soul and sense are pass'd away, 
As coldly fiVd in trance profound 
They mark not— see not— aught around ; 
All tell, within that weary breast 
The dove of peace hath flown 25 her nest, 530 

And, tenant of the house of care, 
Alone the canker-worm is there. 
Say, thou that tread'st 26 this lonely vale, 
Why is her cheek so wan and pale ? 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 27 

Why droop those tearless lids, or why 

So wildly gleams that wandering eye ? 

Hath guile betray 'd, or passion cross'd 

That bleeding heart when valued most, 

While love, the star of human way 

That bums to lead the steps astray, 540 

With all its thousand dreams is flown, 

A nd reason wakes to woe alone ; 

And hope, the fire that shone to save, 

Shows but the darkness of the grave ! 

Sure change like this, the withering blast 

Of life's Simoom hath o'er her past, 

And while the garden blossom'd fair 

Hath left a blacken'd desart there ; 

For well I ween far prouder vest 

Than the rude skins that form has press'd ; 550 

O'er those wan features faintly play 

The faded beams of former sway, 

Where want nor woe can all deface 

The bearing of a lordly race. 

1 Stranger ! for well thy looks proclaim, 
* Thy garb, thy speech, a stranger's name, 



28 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

1 Can life no smiling page afford 

1 That here thou searchest griefs record ; 

' Or bears the wither'd rose-leaf power 

c To win thee from the blooming flower ? 560 

' Yet pity soothes the pulse of pain, 

4 And sorrow's pang is wisdom's gain, 

6 Since life such stores for thought supplies 

8 That whoso ponders must be wise. 

6 If, train'd in wisdom's school, thy mind 

' Seeks but to know, and serve mankind, 

' Say, wanderer of the distant zone, 

* What lands remote thy birth-place own, 
' And where this tale of grief unknown ? 

* From Ganges' sages speeds thy way, 570 
4 Or eastmost realms of far Kathay 27 , 

6 Where the young day's first roses shed 
' Their blushing leaves on Wangi's bed ; 
' Or where amidst Mahrabeen 23 waves 
1 The western sun his splendours laves, , 
6 That, blending in their course on high, 
' Dissolve in glory o'er the sky, 
6 Whilst, wide in boundless distance roll'd, 
' Glows Ocean's plain in burning gold ? 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 29 

' By pride's stern mandate unsuppress'd, 580 

' Its echoes ring through every breast 

' That owns our faith ; — too well reveal'd 

4 From heart to heart, though lips be seaPd ! 

' And thou, beware thy heedless path 

' Rouse not the lion in his wrath ; 

' But close the doors 29 of secresy, 

c Nor own 30 the camel passed by thee.' 

From colder clime and northern sky 

Amidst your plains a stranger I. 

Chance led I sought this spot, nor soar 590 

To Afric's art or Eastern lore. 

Hard is his task who toils through art 

To find a balsam for the heart ; 

And learning's ransack'd stores but show 

Who adds to wisdom, adds to woe. 

Yet, while eternal shadows hide 

The pageants of an earlier hour, 
And those— the broken toys of pride — 

Proclaim the vanity of power, 
Hath tyranny's unheeding eye 600 

Regardless pass'd the moral by, 



30 ABEASSAH. CANTO I. 

And doom'd this lovely land a home 
But for the mourner's foot to roam ? 
Alas ! through earth, in crowds, alone, 
Man wakes the universal moan ; 
Vain nature's charm, or nature's tie, 
Joy is a dream, and life a sigh ! 

' Vain nature's tie ! — ah ! know'st thou not 

6 How worse than hopeless is his lot 

4 Who flies the raging sea to prove 610 

6 That rocky shore, a kinsman's love ? 

' Who deems the milk a brother shares, 

' The golden hours in childhood past, 
' The early hopes, the infant cares 

c A moment raised and sunk as fast, 
4 So train young hearts — nor after years 
' Nor pain divide, nor coldness sears ? 
4 Or that the days of guileless truth, 
1 When breast is link'd to breast in youth, 
6 In chains of lasting love can bind 620 

' When future passions sway the mind ? 
* If such thou deem'st — and nature's ties 
Charm thy fond thought, in time be wise : 



CANTO I. 



ABBASSAH. SI 



' There, where in bowers of soft repose 
1 Once gay and bright young Hope arose ; 
' There, where of life the choicest wreath 
' Bloom'd fragrant in affection's breath ; 
' There scan the changing page of fate, 
' Heaven's last, worst curse — a brother's hate ! 



6 Where earth from Kaf to Kaf 3l extends, 630 

6 Far as the moon's broad pathway bends 

' Throughout the subject world are known 

6 The glories of the Caliph's throne. 

' And as the queen of light 32 , whose ray 

4 Gives burning splendour to the day, 

' Her far reflected radiance throws 

' To where her paler brother glows, 

6 So too, Alrashid's orb of fame 

* Drank lustre from Abbassah's name. 

' Rose of delight ! each holier power 640 

' Propitious at her natal hour 

6 Rain'd influence on the budding flower. 



32 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO I. 



6 Though fix'd to earth the blossom grew, 
6 The breath of heaven its fragrance drew, 
' And bathed its stem celestial dew : 
' Lovely and fair to mortal eyes 
' It bloom'd, that flower of Paradise, 
' Till mortal loveliness outvied 

* The houri charms' immortal pride. 

* Grace of her sex — the sage's theme— 650 
6 The poet's song — the lover's dream— 

6 What Moslem breast but throbb'd to raise 

' Its proudest altar to her praise ? 

' What Moslem heart, but on the lyre 

' Pour'd forth for her the strains of fire ? 

c The purple dawn of smiling fate ; 

' The prophet line ; the princely state ; 

' The cheek youth's loveliest blush o'erspread, 

6 The graces of her gliding tread, 

6 Smooth as yon bough 33 in airy ease 660 

6 Sways, waving on the southern breeze ; 

' The ray that fired that large dark eye, 

4 As lightning wakes the midnight sky, 

6 When, from its liquid depths, the mind 

* Blazed forth, in brightness unconfined ; 



canto r. ABBASSAH. 33 

' The strains admiring Mecca 34 haiPd ; 

8 The wit that won when wisdom fail'd ; 

' The skill that chain'd, — o , ermaster , d, mute, 

* The bulbul 35 to her warbling lute ; 

* All that could awe, inspire, or move, 670 

* And steep the subject -sense in love; 

' Earth's incense heap'd upon thy shrine, 

' Bright orb ! — the throne of earth was thine ! 36 

4 Star of the soul-absorbing sigh — 

c How wide thy noontide radiance shines ! 

c Now in mid-heaven exalted high 

' With glowing fervours fills the sky ; 

6 Now from thy rapt adorer's eye 

6 Even while he bends 37 the knee, declines ; 

6 And sinking, finds thine humbler bed 680 

6 Beneath the earth his footsteps tread : 

6 Even while we gaze, and feel thou must 

6 So soon remingle with the dust ; 

4 And that the fleeting term of man 

' Far, far exceeds thy narrow span ; 

6 And that thy train of shooting light, 

c A purer vapour of the night, 

c But dazzles in its rapid flight ; 

D 



34 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

' Even while our lips the truth avow, 

' How bright, how fair, how dear art thou ! 690 

1 Frail though thy fleeting life may be, 

' Who does not turn — to worship thee ! 

6 And still, retiring from the weight 

4 Of empire, and the toils of power, 
' Those gilded chains that load the great, 
6 At eve from his Divan of state 

6 Her monarch-brother sought her bower ; 
c And, sate with feverish schemes of day, 
' Forgot in woman's gentle sway 

' The sceptred reign of care ; 700 

6 And thought his furrow'd brow unbent 
6 As soul-seducing numbers blent 
c With murmuring music breathed content, 
c While wit its jewel I'd lustre lent 

4 In vivid sparkles there. 
6 Blest hours ! — that, mingling soul with soul, 

6 The fondest ties more fondly bind ; 

6 While, lapt in bliss, the unheeding mind 
* Dreams on, nor recks of Fate's control ! 
6 Ah, happy — if, supremely bless'd, 710 

6 Man knew the blessings he possess'd ! 



CANTO T. ABBASSAH. 35 

' If his proud spirit, forrrTd to range, 

c Waked not, to ask some happier change ! 

' If, led from failing hope to hope, 

' His frenzy found not wider scope ; 

' And, casting all he holds aside 

1 For that unknown, still, still denied, 

' Founds on his shatter'd hopes a claim 

' To heaven, of which he knows — the name ! 

* Though gay the wine of pleasure laughVl 720 

- ' High mantling o'er the goblet's brim ; 
fc Yet deem'd the Caliph as he quaff'd 
' One balm was wanting in the draught 

6 That pour'd its lavish sweets for him. 
c The tide of soul reach'd not its height, 

4 The spell of life had lost its art ; — 
' How could he taste its all delight 

' Unless the brother of his heart, 
6 He, whose mild rule his people bless'd, 

c His first, best favourite, wont to share 730 

c The inmost secrets of his breast, 

6 His true, his loved vizier was there ? 
6 Such was the care his mind engrossM, 
6 In turns by varying passions toss'd, 

d 2 



36 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

6 As friendship strove, and pride, and shame 
' Conflicting struggled in his frame. 
' He knew our sacred customs kept 

6 The gentler offspring of his race, 
6 Pure from all eyes, his own except, 

6 Secluded in the Harem's space ; 740 

4 And, safe within that hallowed pale 

< Which bars the evil eye and hand, 
6 The heart's best shield, the maiden's veil 

6 Yields only to her lord's command. 
6 Yet brooked he not, his royal line, 

6 The blood that gave the Prophet birth, 
' Should in its glorious course combine 

6 With the less favour'd streams of earth ; 
6 Nor durst his haughty will disdain 
6 The jealous law of eastern reign. 750 

6 But yet, unwont his wish to stay, 
' Or keep his feet in reason's way, 
s His weakness chose a mid career — 
6 That dubious course — that path of fear — 
' Which still in tortuous windings run 
c Meets every risk it strives to shun ; 
6 To each extreme of action loth, 
4 Combining the worst ills of both. 



CANTO I. AKBASSAH. 37 

' Oh, blinded King ! — for thee in vain 

4 Thy proper passions spurn'd the rein, — 760 

' Thy pride, untaught, aspiring still 

' To bend all nature to its will. 

4 Deem'd'st thou, by earthly laws restrained, 

4 To mar what holier laws ordain'd ? 

' Deem'd'st thou to Man the power was given 

4 To sever ties enjoin'd by Heaven ? 

4 That, by thy will heart link'd to heart, 

4 Thy will could tear the links apart, 

' And, rending every tie, divide 

4 The husband-lover from his bride? 770 

4 Too oft, — too well thy days have curs'd 

4 That frenzied dream thy darkness nursed, 

.* That stern, inhuman mandate ! — Say, — 

4 Could love, could faith, could man obey ? 

' Enough that to a husbands name 

6 Unbarr'd the Harem's deep recess, 
4 Doom'd to that ordeal 38 of the flame 
4 With his proud lord the victim came ; 

4 The sequel, canst thou fail to guess ? — 
4 Yet had the master-spell been thrown 780 

4 Obnoxious to his sight alone, 



38 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO T. 



' By coldness, duty, promise, steel'd, 

6 His loyalty had scorn'd to yield, 

6 And that pure spring through scorching earth 

6 Had kept the dullness of its birth. 

y But vain was wisdom's weak defence 

£ Against each charm that wins the sense: — 

4 His deep resolve and firmest mood 

4 Her various powers assail'd, subdued ; 

6 Compell'd the burning sands to prove 790 

6 And breathe the fiery blasts of love, 

[ He could not strive, — he could not fly, — 

6 Fix'd to the stake, to parch, and die ! 

6 Eve's glowing star, and still, soft hour 

' Sunk on his heart with silent power ; 

6 Night's deep, dissolving moments stole 

6 In burning languors o'er his soul, 

' As the rapt breast, o'erpower'd, o'erwrought, 

6 Panted for visions of its thought ; 

' And on the accents of her tongue 800 

6 How all the enamour'd spirit hung, 

6 Transported when Abbassah sung ! 

" In vain would pride, — in vain would shame 
" Repress my soul's consuming flame ; 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 39 

" In vain a thousand fears inipart 
" Their trembling silence to my heart : 
" Despite my will, its pulse is free, 
"It beats with love ; — it beats for thee ! 

" Dost thou repel that fond desire ? 

" Shame, secret love, at once expire — 810 

" And deem'st thou, thus, jny life to save ? — 

" Alas ! — thy pride prepares my grave ! 

" Nor unavenged that doom shall be : — 

" It speaks in death — it speaks of thee !" 

4 Beats there the heart that will not own 
4 Its pulses trembling to the tone, 
4 When the loved voice, so soft, so dear, 
4 Breathes rapture on the listening ear ; 
' And passion burns in music's sigh — 
4 Its own deep tones of harmony ? 820 

4 While, hushed around, the amorous air 
4 In breathless silence lingers there, 
' As if its pinions dared not stray 
•' Or fear'd to waft one charm away, 
4 One sound, recall'd 30 from spheres of bliss 
4 To soothe and cheer the pangs of this. 



40 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

' Ah ! — though the weary world impart 

6 Its weight of sorrows to the heart, 

' And feelings — warmly wont to thrill — 

6 In life's bleak course grow dull and chill ; — 830 

' Waked by that call, to memory's eyes 

c How fair the dreams of fancy rise ; 

6 Cares, toils, and sufferings, lull'd to sleep, 

' Repose in hallowed slumber deep ; 

6 Visions of joy, and love, and truth, 

* Return in all their light of youth ; 

6 Bright phantoms woo the wilder'd brain, 

* And all is peace and hope again ! 

6 Deem it not strange — the manly form, 

' The eye with kindling raptures warm, 840 

6 The lofty thought, the soul sincere, . 

' The milder virtues that endear, 

6 The graces that in Giaffier shone 

' On woman's yielding spirit won. 

6 The females of our fiery sky, 

' Form'd by love's hand, breathe but his sigh ; — 

6 And drain the maddening potion up 

6 Though death be mingled in the cup. 



canto I. ABBASSAH. 41 

1 Deem it not strange ; — the blood that froze 

' In his cold veins 40 , at beauty's ray 850 

* Waked, as when burst from long repose 

* On Elwand's height the wintry snows ; 
6 And down the headlong torrent goes, 

' Till Teer's swoln stream impetuous flows 

6 In overwhelming way : 
'That he, who feebler charms had borne 
6 And paid the sex's sighs with scorn, — 
' When full before his dazzled eyes 
4 Sparkled that fair, that glorious prize, — 
' When to his hand the monarch gave 860 

*■ That jewel of his diadem, 
' He — beautv's doom-devoted slave — 

6 Wore on his heart the glowing gem : — 
6 That of life's loveliest flower possess'd, 
1 He bore its beauties to his breast ; 
6 Till — bending o'er that fragrant breath — 

6 In mad delight brain, pulse, and soul 
4 Reel'd ; and the pearl of stainless faith 

6 Enrich'd the heart-dissolving bowl. 
6 Slowly his sterner purpose fail'd, 
' And duty wept, — but love prevail'd ; 870 



m 



ABBASSAH. 



CANTO I. 



6 Love forced his struggling steps astray ; 
* Love tore the maiden's veil 41 away. 



Alas ! where frowning banks combine 
Joy's eager current to confine, 
Though straiten'd by the vain control 
In deeper tide the waters roll ; 
Through barring rocks its onward course 
Whirls, eddying with increasing force, 
And crowding in its rushing might 
The scatter 'd springs of life's delight, 
But swifter urges to the sea 
Of doom and doubt — Eternity. 



880 



Curse on the cold, unpitying zeal 
That broke the hallow'd contract's seal 
To bare before the avenger's eye 
The sacredness of privacy ! 
Curse on the base, remorseless fiend, 

6 Whose vampire wing and fawning breath 
Lull'd every waking thought, and screen'd 

' In deep repose the tongue of death ! 
Cursed be the slave that, tempted long 
By hoped reward or casual wrong, 



890 






CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 4tf 

6 In faith's 42 polluted semblance came 

6 To desecrate the shrine of flame ! 

' Yet how — oh ! how can failing man 

4 The murderer's secret purpose scan, 

* Or caution pierce each dark pretence 

' That shrouds the doom of innocence ? 

< When envy prompts th 1 insidious task, 900 

' And treason borrows duty's mask — 

6 When jealousy impels the dart 

' In friendship's seeming, to the heart — 

' And vengeance burns in holy fires — 

e And virtue acts as hate inspires : — 

6 The pious cheat succeeding well 

6 Since heaven performs the works of hell. 

6 Think what infuriate passions press'd 

' For mastery in the Caliph's breast, 

' When that cold serpent, gliding near, 910 

6 Pour'd all the venom in his ear. 

' Stunn'd — fix'd — o'erwhelm'd — he sate at first 

' Of reason, memory, thought bereft, 
<• As though the thunder-bolt had burst 

6 Upon his soul, and nought was left. 



f 



44 ABB ASS AH. CANTO I. 

' The tale — the sounds his ear received 
' Unheard, — unnoted, — unbelieved : 
' Something of pain the blow had dealt ; 

* Yet how, he knew not — scarcely felt — 

* But still the hideous accents rang 920 

6 Upon his senses. — Could it be ? — 
' Nursed he for this that viper's fang ! — 
' Yet he who caused that baleful- pang, 

6 The trembling caitiff at his knee, 
' Durst he speak false ? — Durst slander's tongue 
' There, to his face, his sister wrong ? — 

* A thousand damning proofs of crime 
' That pass'd unheeded in their time 

6 Return'd to blast his aching view : — 

6 It was, — it was, — it must be true ! 930 

' And he — his own blind act connived — 

6 The guilt — the traitor too, survived ! — 

6 In vain upon that brain o'ercast 

' Rose the long memory of the past ; 

' In vain affection, service, love, 

' Against the headlong fury strove. 

' He mock his mandate ! — he — his slave 

6 Presume his lord's command to brave, 



CANTO I. AB BASS AH. 45 

' And live ! — He felt against that slight 

c How vain his impotence of might ! 940 

' The hurried gaspings of his breath, 

' Short, broken sounds, half-murmur 1 d death ; 

' His face — unconscious what he did — 

' The clenching hands of passion hid, 

6 As though its livid thought had been 

4 Too hideous to be freely seen : 

6 The thrill of rage, of scorn, of shame, 

1 In fierce convulsion shook his frame ; 

' Stung, writhing with that fatal wound 

' What recked 43 he then who stood around ? — 950 

' With impulse dubious, — unavow'd — 

8 As lightning cleaves the thunder cloud, 

' The monarch yielding to the man, — 

' He rose and rush'd thro 1 the divan : — 

' Yet, where the opening crowd appaLTd 

* Fell back — their terrors half recalFd 

' His scattered senses : there he stood, 

c Deep musing in uncertain mood. 

' At length, the signal of his hand 

4 Dispersed the wildly -wondering band : 960 

1 He raised his head : — the hue that cast 

6 Its darkness o'er his brow had pass'd ; 



ABBASSAH. 



CANTO I. 



That sudden burst of frenzy reined, 
His air its wonted calm regained ; 
He turn'd, — and silent, and alone, 
With slow, firm step resumed his throne. 
Yet calmly though he glided by, 

6 None dared the downcast forehead raise ; 
The deathlike stillness of that eye, — 
Still as the earthquake brooding nigh, — 

6 We felt 44 its awe, and durst not gaze ; 
In dark suspense of peril near 
Bow'd down and shrunk in freezing fear. 
A long, chill, dreary pause succeeds : — 

c Mute, breathless, motionless, subdued, 

' No glance presumed to search his mood, 
Till at his beck the tale proceeds ; 
Nor, till that weight of silence broke, 
Our souls felt lighten'd of its yoke. 
Fix'd sat the King —nor look'd — nor spoke ; 
One vast, pervading thought, repress'd, 
Controll'd, and swallow'd up the rest : 
Nor eye had seen, observing then, 
Aught but the wonted air of men ; 
Nor mark'd not — quelFd that first surprise — 
The billows of his soul arise. 



970 



980 



CANTO I. 



ABBASSAH. 47 



' With set, firm gaze, and aspect cold 
' He heard the fateful story told : 

* No sudden break, — no gathering cloud 

* The spirit's secret sense avow'd ; 990 
i No question glanced ; no altering look 

* Evinced, again if passion shook ; 

' Nor sound, nor gesture disengage 
' The eager memory of the page, 

* Lest once-arrested speech might fail 
' To weave each treason in the tale. 

* Alone the slow, pale, changeless smile 
' That hung in whitening gloom awhile 
' O'er his closed lips and marble air, 

6 Disclosed a latent feeling there ; 1000 

' A kindled pulse — a thought suppress'd, 

' That rose and settled in the breast. 

' And who its hidden import seeks 

' May well divine, where silence speaks, 

6 That cool resolve of quenchless hate, 

* Unknown, yet hVd and stern as fate, 

c That shrouds in kindred gloom ; secure 

' The bolt is aim'd, the vengeance sure, 

c Nor idly lightens to betray 

i Its purpose to the unconscious prey. 1010 



48 ABB ASS AH. CANTO I. 

6 And what that purpose ? — He alone 

' Can tell, whose burning heart hath known 

' What blackening furies there combine 

( When vengeance scorns all outward sign ; 

' And, pent within, the labouring flame 

c Heaves the choked breast, and swells the frame. 

6 That gather'd rage, that would forego 

' The heart's first hope — to reach its foe : 

6 That thunder-feeling, that would strike 

' All that its path embraced alike ; 1020 

6 Singling the loftiest, dearest ties 

c To fall the foremost sacrifice ; 

6 And gladly in the general doom 

4 Itself plunge headlong to the tomb, — 

' No matter — if but fate descend, 

6 How wide its sweep, how wild its end ; 

6 So that the ravage of its course 

' But serve to mark the whirlwind's force ; 

c So that the ruin but proclaim 

' The guilty's crime, — the avenger's name. — 1030 

6 How is thy power, thy greatness fled, 
' Last — noblest of the noblest 45 race ! — 

c How quench'd the star that wont to shed 
' Its glories o'er thy resting place I 



CANTO I. ABBASSAH. 49 

4 Where are they flown — the wise, the proud, 

4 Who to thy voice submissive bow'd ? — 

4 Where are they now, — the pomps of state, 

4 The Emir train that throng'd thy gate ; 

4 The silent slaves that watch'd thy nod, 

4 The suppliant crowds thy courts that trod : 1040 

4 Thy halls, where nations tributes brought, — 

* Thy smile, that Kings with presents sought, — 

4 Thy baths, where beauty loosed her zone, — 

4 Thy bowers, that rung with musics tone, — 

4 Where Barmek's race, through earth's wide bound 

4 For wealth, for worth, for power renown'd? — 

' Where she, the pearl of Asia's pride, 

4 Soul of thy heart, thy royal bride ? 

4 And valour's meed, and wisdom's fame, 

4 And woman's love, and man's acclaim ? — 1050 

4 Oh ! could not all prolong thy date 

» 
4 And fortune's signet 46 seal thy fate? — 

4 They win, alas ! no homage now — 

4 Where is their promise ! — Where art thou ! 

4 No voice awakes — no mourners rave — 

4 No echo answers in the grave ! 

4 How art thou fallen ! — thine honour'd name 

4 Sun of the morning, sets in shame : 

E 



■ 

50 ABBASSAH. CANTO I. 

6 The Sangiac* blast that breathed thy doom, 

' Scattered thine ashes from the tomb, 1060 

* And dies upon the Minstrel's tongue 

6 The sound, once worshipp'd, loved, and sung ! 
6 How art thou fallen ! — yet, outcast here, 
' Oh ! yet accept this grateful tear : 
' Deep in the heart that silent swells 

* Inscribed thy cherish'd memory dwells ; 
6 And though no sigh its sorrows breathe, 
6 Thy name shall ever live beneath ! 

6 In vain would hands the shrine deface, 

' Thy glory consecrates the place ; 1070 

6 The furrow'd soil and scatter'd stone 

' Recall the heart to thee alone ; 

' And Desolation o'er the scene 

6 Broods but to mark that thou hast been V 

V 

* The icy wind of death, the Sangiac. 



ABBASSAH, 



CANTO II. 



As when the minstrel's art essays 

The silent spell of former days, 

And strives to wake the breath of fire 

That slumbers in the silent lyre 

O'er whose loved chords and silver tone 

The damp of long neglect has grown ; 1080 

Still as his touch, with music rife, 

Recalls the withering strings to life, 

And fondly woos the impassion'd strain 

Of other years to wake again ; 

In sullen tones, apart, and low, 

The jarring chords' vibrations flow, 

And cold, and deep, and faint, their breath 

Falls on the ear in notes of death, 

e 2 



52 ' ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

And sad, and lonely, seems to moan 

Its brighter hours and broken tone. 1090 

Yet, yielding slowly, as his skill 

Constrains, combines each sullen thrill ; 

Alternate lingers, changes, dwells, 

And gently sinks, or gradual swells, 

And blending with its plaintive sighs 

The scatter'd tones of memory rise 

That, oft-repeated, reach at last 

Some glimpses of the tuneful past, 

As mingling chords more full and free 

Pour the deep bursts of harmony, 1100 

Though there perhance some failing string 

Still o'er the strain its sadness fling ; — 

So too that spirit, dark, and lone, 

Remained, the rack of passions flown ; 

Cold, barren, moveless, sad, exiled, 

The outcast wanderer of a wild, 

Where, blasted in that sudden doom, 

Each flower of hope had shed its bloom . 

Without one solace, to sustain 

The crowding tortures of a brain 1110 

That reel'd beneath overwhelming fate, 

The victim of relentless hate. 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 53 

A childless mother — widowM wife — 

Debarr'd from love — proscribed from life ; 

Doom'd but to mourn through endless years 

Each broken bond that life endears, 

And joyless, hopeless, wither'd, torn, 

To move the living mark of scorn : — 

No tongue to soothe, no hand to bind 

That festering wound — the bleeding mind ; 1 120 

No gentle balm to reunite 

The feelings sever'd in their blight, 

Nor voice to wake the spirit's tone, 

And tell of hope — though hope be flown : 

The shatter'd pulses once that wept 

Had long in cold oblivion slept ; 

If aught of human yet held sway, \ 

Hush'd in that bosom's depths it lay, 

Where ceaseless woe and sullen care 

Sunk, buried in the deep despair 1130 

That, spreading smooth to outward show, 

Yet canker'd all it hid below. 

Unheeded first, but lingering nigh 
With listless air and vacant eye, 



54 ABBASSAH. canto II. 

That icy form, as fair, as cold 

Scarce saw the web of fate unrolPd : 

But as the tissued shadows rose 

Of love, and joy, and cares, and woes, 

And smote upon the awakening ear 

Each long-lost sound — so loved, so dear, 1140 

The laxen'd pulses of the heart 

Waked into sense with sudden start, 

And, deep and low, the imperfect moan 

Half echoed 47 back the speaker's tone. 

He mark'd not, for his eager view 

Flew through the mazes of the past, 
Where memory's glow relumed anew 

The hues, so long in shadow cast ; 
Hopes, blooming as the roseate ray, 
In earnest of the brightening day, 1150 

And transient cares whose softening shade 
In lovelier light that dawn array 'd ; 
Moments that teem with life — its course 
Untainted yet from darker source ; 
When the young soul and gladden'd sight 
Inhale the freshness of delight, 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 55 

When every hour's new-kindled sense 

Wakes to such energies intense, 

And finds this world so pure, so fair, 

It treads not earth, but swims in air — 1160 

Fond redolence of joy, — how soon 

To fade in manhood's fiery noon ! 

As these bright themes, too long disjoin'd, 

Renewed, relinquished, urged again, 
Wrought, with repeated touch, that mind 

Disused to one unbroken strain, 
Faint, varying shades of feeling stray'd 
O'er all her face ; — her pale lip play'd 
With quivering life ; — her wither'd frame 
Nearer, with gradual footstep, came ; 1170 

More fix'd her eye, whose dubious beams 
Seem'd kindling with remember'd gleams 

Of former light : a sad, wild tone, 

To human utterance long unknown, 
Wander' d through sounds no language frames, 
And reason recks not — or disclaims, — 
Then, faint and fainter, sought at length 
That pause, where memory gathers strength. 

As the lone heart, but waked to weep, 

Woos the deep stillness of its sleep, 1180 



56 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

And strives to cheat the throb of pain 

With eye that shuns the light, in vain ; — 

Fain for that slumber to dispense 

With the cold pride of waking sense, 

Though day's obtrusive beam forbids 

Oblivion to those aching lids : 

So, from that cold forgetfulness 

Where nature, sunk beneath distress, 

Felt not misfortune's weary yoke, 

Again to life the mourner woke : 1190 

Woke but to find resumed again 

The fever-blight of breast and brain, 

And feel of life how small a part 

Rests for the widow'd, broken heart. 

As one that knew not earth, amazed 

In doubting mood she wildly gazed ; 

For long the spirit, sorrow-changed, 

From nature's living forms estranged 

Strove its own bodings to deceive ; 

Calm as that welcome blank had been 1200 

This hour's was no unreal scene, 

Too keen its pang to disbelieve ; 

Waked she indeed to truth at last ? — 
Was it no dream, that dreadful past ! — 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 57 

'Twas her own tale ! The crowding train 

Of frenzies, swept across her brain , 

Rung in that low, convulsive cry, 

That straiiVd the chords of agony. 

It roused at once, that thrill of pain, 

The life-blood stagnate in each vein ; 1210 

Pulse, feeling, memory, reason, thought, 

Inspired, compeU'd, combined, o'erfraught, 

Awaken'd in their gather d might 

As rose the night-bound Nazarite, 

Burst the dark chain that had confined 

The soul's communion from its kind, 

And slow the struggling accents spoke 

Where the deep tide of feeling broke. 

" Stranger,"" she said, " for strangers' ear 

" Alone would dare the griefs to hear, 1220 

" From which the Mosleman withdraws 

" In terror of avenging laws, — 

" Thanks for this generous sympathy ! 

" Though long the well of feelings seal'd, 

" Its hidden waters unreveal'd, 
" Gush from their fount, to welcome thee ; 



I 

58 ABBASSAH. canto II. 



" And deep the welcome — sad, yet dear 

" When sorrow pours the grateful tear ! 

" But ah • — what vails it thee to know 

" The lengthen'd track of human woe ; 1280 

" Or trace the scenes of other days 

" On which the sight so long hath closed : 
" Though in that interval of pain, 
" That silence of the desart plain 

" Of dreary suffering, interposed, 

" The heart will fondly turn — to gaze — 
" And breathe again each wind that brings 
" Their influence on its welcome wings, 
" Regardless that its gusts alight 
" In burning blast 48 , or mildew blight. 1 240 

" What can such spirit offer thee ? 
" What beam of heaven impart a smile 
" To gild Akarkouf's 49 wasted pile? — 

" Lone monument of misery — 
" Its form decay'd, — its glory flown,— 
" Its pride, its boast, for ever gone ! 



" Ah ! happier thou ! — that, born afar 
i( And nurtured under gentler star, 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 59 

" O'er earth, o'er ocean free to range 

" The rugged path at will can change ; 1250 

" And, when the cares of life oppress, 

" And hope is turn'd to bitterness, 

" Can search the world's untrodden bower, 

" And gather still some gladdening flower 

" Whose sweets the jaded sense beguile 

" And woo to peace, a little while ! 

" Undoom'd in silence to sustain 

" The tortures of that galling chain 

" Where crowded griefs, in links combined, 

" Fix to one spot the sinking mind, 1260 

" Whose sad, unchanging forms recall 

" Alone the memory of its fall ! 

" Deem'st thou that hope should soothe this brain ? 

" Hope cannot burst the bonds of pain ! 

" How sweet soe'er its promise be, 

" Life never more will bloom for me ; 

" How have my days of pleasure sped ; — 

" What ashes 50 fallen on my head ! — 

" All that remains on earth — the boon 

" Of pitying heaven, awaits me soon, 1270 

" When in the holy, deep repose 

" Of nature's rest, my sorrows close ! 



60 ABB ASS AH. CANTO II. 

" God of unbounded heavens ! — whose power 

" Sustains affliction's gloomiest hour, 

" And sheds on darkling man the ray 

" That guides his feet in wisdom's way : — 

" Whose mercy gave, involving Fate, 

" The Volumed Essence 51 Increate : — 

" Whose goodness spreads a happier sphere 

" To wean him from his passions here, 1280 

" And bids the cry of anguish cease 

" In mansions of eternal peace ; 

" Requiting earthly sacrifice 

" With loveliest bowers of Paradise : — 

" Thou ! — Wonder of the wilder'd sense ! — 

" First, — Sole, — Supreme, Intelligence ! — 

" Whose glory in its boundless blaze 

" Dimm'd the rapt Prophet's dazzled gaze ; 

" For whom Creation forms a throne ; 

" Eternal ;— Infinite ;—- Alone !— 1 290 

" That deign'st to view with pitying eye 

" The broken spirit's secret sigh, 

" And point, when earthly ills oppress, 

" His only refuge from distress ! 

" Oh ! yet forgive thy chasten'd slave 

" Whose frenzy thus presumes to rave, 






CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 61 

" 'Gainst the award thy will has given ; 

" Alas ! — from sorrow's rending throes 

" The unbidden cry of anguish flows 
" That dares deplore the doom of Heaven ! 1300 

" Bow'd, humbled to the earth, I own 
" The sin long years would fain atone, 
" When this vain heart, in folly free, 
" Roam'd through delight, unheeding Thee ; 
" Unmindful of the duty owed 
" That source from whence its blessings flow'd. 
" High is thy power ! — thy doom is just ! — 
" Yet suffer, pity, pardon, — dust ! 

" Ah ! who that mourns when nature shrouds 

" Her evening form in gather'd clouds, 1310 

" Can all forget the glorious ray, 

" That glowing zenith of the day 

" Which pass'd — its lustre must decline ; 
" Where joy's broad pinions upwards soar 
" Till hope and heaven can give no more, 
" And if the heart a pulse retain 
" Untired, untried, — 'tis but for pain ! 

" Such life — such moment, has been mine. 



62 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



" Nor, though I mourn o'er fate's decree 

" When reason wanders in its gloom, 1320 

" And all the heart is agony — 

" Would I forego the bitter doom ; 
" Nor change, for all that earth can give, 
" The traces that in memory live ; 
" So dear their faded shadows seem 
" Truth cannot shed so bright a beam. 
" What ! — shall the spirit's drooping sigh 
" Prove false to every holier tie ; 
" Or craven suffering tear apart 
" The life-strings that uphold the heart ? 1330 

" Oh ! no, no, no, come what come may, 

" They cannot, cannot pass away ! 

" Thou — of my soul the light — the star ! — 

" What treason can thine image mar ? 

" What future boon — what joy — what hope 

" With ought that bears thy memory cope ; 

" Or how the dream of rapture flee 

" That rose — remained — and sunk with thee ! 

" And raptured was that hour, when first 

• et Upon my sight the vision burst 1340 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 63 

" In glorious, bright reality ; — 
" Nought that the ardent spirit deems 
" Of angel-forms in morning dreams 

" Had ever shone so fair on me. 
" Though friendships voice and courtier's phrase 
" Had ever loved to gild his praise, 
" And glory spread his proud acclaim, 
" And sorrow blest her soother's name ; 
" Though wide the universal tongue 
" Through every breast his plaudits rung, 1350 

" Till woman's heart, that never saw, 
" The portrait would delight to draw, 
" And attributes by fancy given 
" Invested man with hues of heaven ; 
" Though in its panting solitude 
" My spirit ranged in wildest mood, 
" And, every added moment, framed 
" Fresh charms for him my lips ne'er named, 
" And deem'd him, like yon orb of love, 
" As bright 52 — as far my hopes above ; — 1360 

. " Yet, when in bowers of privacy 
" His living image met my eye, 
"And all before my soul subdued 
" That form in breathing beauty stood ; 



64 ABB ASS AH. 



CANTO II. 



" Though Haroun's brow of lordly pride 

" And statelier presence tower'd beside, 

t( How cold the shapes of earth and air 

" Sank in the glance of glory there ! 

" How weak, how faint had fancy's scan 

" Divined that faultless form of man ! 1370 

" I know not if my cheek betray'd 

" What passed within : — a sudden shade 

" Came o'er my sight — my pulses shook — 

" And yet I sought, and met his look. 

" Long was that look — severe, yet sweet, 

" When souls, at once embracing, meet, 

" Nor then control the eager gaze 

" Which all the opening heart displays, 

" Where thoughts, and doubts, and fancies warm 

" Combin'd to shape the cherished form ; 1380 

" And beauty, grace, and glowing youth, 

" Now first resolving into truth 

" Join with one dearer, stronger tie, 

" The thrill of kindling sympathy. 

" Our hearts were tuned to love, perchance : — 

" Our spirits trembled in that glance, 

" And sought to fly with effort Vain ; 

u Yet turned to feel its power again ; 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 65 

" Absorb'd and fix'd by spell profound, 

"As Yazid 53 in the circle's bound ; 1390 

" Confused, — yet fearing to forget 

" The troubled meaning there it met ; 

" Or doubting if aright divined 

" The dubious omen of the mind ; 

" Nor strove to free from that control, 

" That night-mare 34 charm, the struggling soul. 

<c I could not waken from that mood : 

" A voice enjoin'd me — and I stood 

" To hear the contract- — at his side ; — 

u I sank not — but became his bride — 1400 

" Yet prouder feelings gilded shame, 

" And rapture own'd, and bless'd the name ! 

" Our law had join'd us — ne'er to part: — 

" That feeling swell'd upon my heart 

" And choked its utterance ; all things seem'd 

" As if my troubled spirit dream'd ; 

" Half waking ; — dimly conscious still ; — 

" But void of thought — of power — of will. 

" I tried to speak — a murmur rung, 

" Falter'd, and died 55 upon my tongue; 1410 



66 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

" Thick shadows all around me came ; 
" My brain in wild confusion swam ; 
" A doubling echo filFd my ear, 
" He spoke to me, — I could not hear : 
" Distraction triumph'd in my breast, 
" My senses sunk — but not in rest. 

" Night waned apace, and Haroun rose ; 

" They went — but could I thus repose ? 

" Oh ! no : — for as the lingering door 

" Closed on his form, I felt no more 1420 

" The cloud that late my soul o'erhung ; 

" Upon the couch my limbs I flung 

" But not to slumber : all was changed ; 

" The chaos of my thoughts arranged ; 

" Sinking no more with shame, with awe, 

" I breathed again — and heard — and saw — 

" Saw but that past — which seem'd to be 

" The present hour's reality : 

" Sooner, his absence might have grieved, 

But now I found my heart relieved ; 1430 

And every faculty, unchain'd, 

Flow'd free, in impulse unrestrain'd. 

Night spread around but night so fair 

My frenzy seem'd to fill the air 



a 



a 



a 






CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 67 



With angel voices : morning's light 
Broke in bright lustre—oh, how bright ! 
The sun in burning radiance came, 
" I met it, with a soul of flame. 



a 



a 



I ran, with restless feet, to press 

The garden's fragrant wilderness, J 440 

And sought my bower : but could not stay, 

w Some feeling forced my steps to stray : 

" Wide stretch'd above the broad, blue sky, 

" Fresh worlds seem'd opening from on high ; 

" Where'er I moved an Eden bloom'd ; 

" A secret bliss my breast illumed ; 

" Rapt, as when first the spirit eyes 

" The blooming bowers of Paradise, 

" And feels its balmy gales bestow 

" A purer sense — a holier glow. — 1 450 

u Earth, air, and heaven, appear'd my own ; 

66 Throughout their space I breathed alone ; 

" All nature thrill'd with ecstacy ; 

" Creation hung outspread for me ; 

" And brightly smiled the future then, 

" As life could never frown again. 

f2 



68 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

" My heart was heaven ! — but oh ! how fast 

" The visionary transport pass'd ! — 

" For though at times the thoughts of clay 

" Through fields of aether, floating, stray, 1 460 

" The habitant of skies alone ; 
" And deem that sting of meaner care 
" Can never reach the child of air — 

" Too soon will earth reclaim her own ; 
" And fancy droop her eagle wing, 
" And sink, in human suffering. 

" My soul grew weary, as each day 

" Long lingering, slowly rolPd away, 

" And sigfrd to feel the moments creep 

" O'er the dull torpor of its sleep ; 1470 

" But, when 'twas o'er, and welcome night 

" Returning, brought my life of light, 

u That dearest presence earth could give ; — 

" Then, only then I seem'd to live ! 

" Whate'er the lapse of time appears 

" Life counts by feelings, not by years ; 

" Years pass as instants — hours embrace 

" Ages within their labouring space. 



CANTO II. ABB ASS AH. 69 

" I felt earth's general glow pervade 

" My breast, despite El Rashid's shade, 1480 

" And bow'd before my bosom's lord 

" In mad idolatry adored 

" For him my kindled spirit caught 

" The flashes of creative thought, 

" Whose teeming stores spontaneous rise 

" When inspiration's power supplies 

n For him my lute's soft echoes found 

" A softer charm, a dearer sound ; 

" For him the spell by passion thrown 

" Breathed in my voice's deepen'd tone; 1490 

" Mine was the state of Israfin, * 

" And heaven was center'd all in him ! 

" The icy barriers of his faith 

" Dissolved at length in passion's breath, 

" Though long in fateful balance swung 

" The alternate scale, as loyalty 
" 'Twixt love and duty doubtful hung : — 

" That pause endear 'd him more to me ; 
" So the cold stream 56 of fabled fame 
" Gave to the torch its fiery flame ; 1500 

* " The rapt Seraph, that adores and burns." 



70 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

" So wax, dissolving in the Sun, 

" Receives its impress from the stone. 

" Vain is his will who seeks to bind 

" Beneath his sway th' unfetter'd mind, 

cf That, all unbroken to the rein, 

" Knows not, or spurns, the despot's chain : 

" Fail'd not his mandate to enslave 

" The heavings of the Ocean wave ? — 

" And, if the passing gust can shake 

" His reign, and bid those depths awake, 1 510 

" How vain must human mandate prove 

" That strives to stem the course of love ! 

" Even he — the sage 57 , whom earth obey'd, 

" Who nature's hidden sources sway'd ; 

" Who stay'd, by words of mystic force, 

" The genii in their pathless course, 

" And at whose name the Afreet slave 

" Writhes, howling from his living grave ; 

" He — lord of earth and air — confess'd 

" The mightier ruler of the breast, 1520 

" When Judah's pomp, and wisdom's pride, 

" To idol shrines was turn'd aside. 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 71 

" And forms of heavenly fire have known 

u A mortal flame transcend their own ; 

" And, sent 58 in vengeance from above, 

" Defied its doom for earthly love ; 

" Bear witness, Thou that shin'st afar, 

" Chaste guardian of the morning star, 

" While Suza's groaning caverns tell 

" For beauty's smile how Angels fell ! 1530 

" Nor these alone — thy Prophet frame 

" Mohammed ! own'd th' inspiring flame ; 

• When the blue heaven of Haphsa's eye, 

" And pining Adan's secret sigh, 

" And Jeweira's darker soul of fire, 

" And haughty Zeinab's glance of ire, 

u And burning Ayesha, strove in vain 

" Thy holy fervours to restrain, 

" Bound captive in thy captive's 59 chain ! 

" Ah ! then — could'st thou, my brother, deem 1540 

" Thy voice should chase the gentle dream 

" When first o'er woman's opening soul 

" Steals infant passion's sweet control ; 

" With dawning hopes, and rising fears, 

" A moment waked, — to live for years— 



72 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



" And new-born joys, and pulses strong 

" That deeply thrill — and tremble long — 

" And conscious shame, and struggling pride 

" That veils its thought — yet scarce would hide — 

" Till the rapt eye — no more concealing — 1550 

" In one unguarded gaze revealing 

" All that the labouring breast had known — 

u The pang that rapture claim 1 d her own — 

" The ark where secret faith had dwelt — 

u The altar where the soul had knelt — 

" The dream that still, by day, by night, 

" Ineffable — divinely bright, 

" Beaui'd on the heart in promise fair 

" While passion reign 1 d resistless there, — 

" Meets the long glance in answer given — 1560 

" That glance — whose transport asks not heaven — 

" Fond melting in the etherial glow 

" That only love can light below : 

" Ah ! — could that too — too blissful scene 

" Be changed, whate'er the past has been ? 

" Even from this heart — the lost — betray^ — 

" Oh, Prophet ! — could that vision fade ! — 

" Bear with me, Stranger, if my brain 
" Too often quit the path of pain, 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 73 

" To find from present ills release 1570 

" In moments of remember'd peace. 

" Long in this silent bosom coop'd 

" The prison'd feelings darkly droop'd ; 

" But spreading now in torrent wide, 

" What hand can stay the bursting tide ? 

" Still where the smooth Serab 60 betrays 

" Will memory turn her cheated gaze, 

" Till, with overlabouring pulses flush'd, 

" The heart forgets the tongue is hush'd ! 

" Yet what avails it thus to dwell 1580 

" On themes, remember 'd but too well, 

" That smile, — the Tadmor of the waste ; — 

" The spot where early Hope had placed 

" Her idol shrines of happiness ; 
" And Powers the world once knelt before, — 
" Their altars worshipp'd now no more — 
" Revisit earth but in the gleams 
" Of fantasy, in memory's dreams, 

" That break the heart they seem to bless ! 

" I told thee that our glances met : — 1590 

" That hour the seal of fate was set. 



74 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO IT. 



" He saw my anguish — sought to save ; — 
" He, my adored, my loved one, gave 

" All that his past of life endear'd ; 
" Th' unspotted faith, — th' untainted name — 
" His pride, — his glory, — and his fame, — 

" Broke even the vow his soul revered ; 
" Favour, and power, and loyalty, 
" Forgot, resign'd, despised, for me — 
" For me, — and for the grave ! — 1600 

" He sought my danger : — Powers above, 
" Was death the meed of generous love ! 

a What more was left us ? — Why — oh ! why 

" Could we not then — that instant, die ? 

" Earth was as nought : — the mutual soul 

" Conjoin'd, comprized its circling whole : 

" Love, hope, and heaven, that hour embraced — 

" Beyond it — time was but a waste. 

" What could the happy heart desire 

" But in its transport to expire ! 1610 

" So thought we then : yet learn 1 d to know 
" A dearer impulse stronger grow 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 75 

" As hour by hour, and day by day 
" Elapsed, confirm'd its spreading sway. 

" Ah ! — gentle pledge of future joy, 

" Star of my soul — my blooming boy ! 

" Dear solace of this suffering heart, 

" Form'd from its life — with life to part : 

" Borne, cherish'd, born 'mid painful throes 

" To end, atone a mother's woes : — 1620 

" How, when thine infant burthen grew 

" First on my sense, and nature knew 

" The tender charge of coming life, 

u The mother opening on the wife, — 

" How would th' exulting spirit soar 

" With secret thrills, unfelt before, 

" While throbs of proudest rapture blest 

" The idol offspring of my breast ! 

" But, when in quick pulsations came 

" The growing struggles of thy frame, 1630 

" And suffering for that life adored 

" Indeed received its fond reward ; 

" When those dear eyes' uncertain ray 

" Half-veiling, met the light of day, 

" And, waken'd at thy feeble tone, 

M I saw thee — knew thee — knew mine own — 



76 ABBASSAH. canto If. 

" Claim'd thee in ardour unrepress'd, 

" And strain'd thee to my bursting breast, 

" While, asking all my tenderest care, 

" Thy living pulses trembled there, — 1640 

« Oh God !— oh God !— the blood that nWd 

" In these shrunk veins, how madly glow'd ! 

" Its kindled current bounding ran, 

" A nearer, dearer life began ; 

" O'erpower'd — o'erblest — thought, feeling, sight, 

" WhirFd in that vortex of delight, 

" That agony of joy, whose scope 

" Pass'd, mock'd, o'erpower'd, the voice of hope : 

" Till in excited nature's heat 

" Brain, blood, and pulses ceased to beat : 1650 

" Even from the rapturous flood it drank 

" Opp ress, d the fainting spirit sank ; 

" Sense, feeling, suffering, merged in this— 

" And life unfelt — except its bliss ! 

" Spirit of Hope ! — mysterious name ! — 

" Thou messenger of joy and light, 
" Whose gift the soul with strength supplies 
" To spurn the scene that round her lies, 
" And mingle with the distant skies 

" Before their glories fade in night; 1660 



i axto II. ABBASSAH. 77 

" Bright emanation of that sphere 

" Where all is bliss ! — descending here 

" To add thy blessing to the store 

" When the full heart can ask no more : 

" Or, ministrant in hours of ill, 

" Unwearying Angel ! — watchest still 

" The world-deserted couch, and cheerest 

" With phantasies, the loveliest — dearest ; 

" Shall man, who sees so quickly flee 

" The bliss he knows not but in thee, 1670 

" Presume thy sacred power to blame ? 
" And chide thy bright foretaste of heaven 
" Because to grosser sense ungiven ? — 
u Blest from thy Zingian's 6l fountain-head 
" O'er all this heart the waters spread, 
" That still, with freshening charm, constrain 
" Its witherM flower c2 to bloom again ! 

" Yes ! — blest indeed the mother feels 
" That, placed her infant's couch beside, 

" While sleep its little senses seals, 1680 

" And time's light pinion lightest steals, 
" Bends o'er her bud — her joy — her pride ! 

" So dark a shroud involves those eyes, 

" So hush'd th 1 unconscious slumberer lies, 



78 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

66 So deeply heaved the breath it draws, 

" So slow subsiding in that pause 

" When the pure life of infancy 

" From mortal stain and suffering free, — 

" The being, just begun to be, — 

66 Flows purest ; — and that sweet repose 1690 

" Without a shade, a breath, a dream, 

" To curl the stillness of its stream, 
" A holier charm o'er nature throws : 
" Diffusing, 'mid the haunts of men, 
" So calm, so pure a feeling then, 
" As though beneath her guardian care 
" Some heavenly essence slumber'd there, 
" And silent angels deign'd to keep 
" Their vigil o'er an infant's sleep ! 
" There has attention hung — to trace 1700 

" The loveliest traits of human race ; 

" Gazing so long, that slumber stole 

" Contagious o'er the hovering soul ; 
" Lull'd the soft tumult of the breast, 
" And soothed even rapture into rest. 

" My child !— my child !— how every hour 
" Bore brighter hues for thee, my flower ! — 



eANTTOII. ABBASSAH. TO 

" How, in the harem's bower apart, 

" With thee to occupy the heart, 

" Its every thought with thee imbrued, 1710 

" How have I loved that solitude ! 

" There have I, musing, joyed to see 

" Thy father's image dawn in thee ; 

" There watch'd, as but a parent can, 

" Thy tiny gestures mimic man ; 

" There loved thy little bed to smooth, 

" And lull the pang I could not soothe ; 

" Have wept to see thy griefs o'er flow, 

" Thy pigmy energy of woe ; 

" And felt the dear, returning smile 1720 

" With thine, thy mother's pain beguile ! 

" There too, affection loved to trace 

" One look maternal on thy face ; 

" One transient gleam, though lightly thrown, 

" That told the heart thou wert my own J 

" When calTd by Haroun's voice away, 

" And far from thee compell'd to stay, 

" How for thy bower my heart has yearn'd, 

" Thou Keblah 63 ! — where the spirit turn'd ! 

" Life's morning-star ! — whose tender ray 1780 

" I held the harbinger of day, 



80. ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



" Nor knew, — deceived by every token, — 
" The glass of Iskendar 64 was broken : 
" For how, — ah, how could fancy tell 
" Of pain to that she loved so well ! 
" Infirmity of thought ! — rejecting 

" All that the future bore of gloom, 
" Unknown and dark ; — yet thence selecting 

" The tissues of a brighter doom ! — 
" Could I not deem, — though hope beguil'd,— 1740 
" Ruin must come from thee, my child ? 
" Ah !— not from thee ! — Thou earnest to bless — 
" 'Twas sin — 'twas fate — that brought distress. 

" Too soon it came — that fatal day 

" Which forced thee from these arms away 

" To hide thee in the sacred bower 

" Of Mecca's prophet's guardian power. 

" Oh ! at that moment, when the heart 

" Felt its sad doom — its doom to part — 

" And found, and own'd, that, self-deceived, 1750 

" Vain was the vision it believed, 

" The hope to which it fondly clung : 
" And, tho' the pulse admitted never 
" The boding thought that we must sever, 
" This was the hour — perchance for ever ! 



CANTO II. 



ABBASSAH. 81 



" And, loved to madness as thou wen, 

" Nor love, nor madness, durst avert 

" That dreadful hour — not even for thee : — 

" And that that pang indeed must be ; — 

" That bitterness of agony ! 1760 

" How long — how long, — o'er thee I hung ! — 
" Ne'er seem'd so dear that deep repose 

" Which lapt thy helpless being then : 
" On which the eyes so soon must close — 

" And never — never turn again ! 
a How long that aching look was cast ; — 

" Each faculty absorb'd in sight ; 
" While every instant seem'd the last 

u That spared to me my life's delight. 
" Even then I felt its peace impart 1770 

" A calmness to my bursting heart : 
" He slept — he slept — with nought to shake 
" His slumbers — Oh ! and must they break ! — 
ct At length they waked him : — one caress ! — 
" One pressure that the soul might bless 

" When he, when he was far away ; 
" I strain'd, — I gazed upon my child — 
u Then burst away ; — even then he smiled — 
" Again, in frantic transport wild 

G 



82 ABB ASS AH. 



CANTO II. 



" I flew to him — too late to stay: — 1780 

" Earth reel'd around me then — 'twas o'er : — 
" My child, — we meet on earth no more ! 

" Prophet of mercy ! — Loved of Heaven ! — 

" Thou searcher of th' eternal will ; 
" To thee — to thee, the power is given — 

" In mercy deign to shield him still ! 
" Thou hast preserved him : — Thou hast turn'd 
" The flame aside when fury burn'd ; 
" Hast turn'd the murderous hand away 
66 That sought him — sought him, but to slay. 1 790 
" Oh, save him still ! — Though sorrow rave 
" In man's despair, 'tis thine to save : 
a If vengeance in her teeming womb 
" Bear suffering yet, be mine the doom— 
u On me, on me, that tempest wild — 
" But spare him, — save him, — save my child ! 
" Spare life its last, worst agony ; 
" Keep him — oh ! keep him safe with thee : 
" Shielded beneath thy power alone — 
" Even to a mother's heart unknown. 1800 

" Thou hast preserved him, — even in ill, — 
Prophet ! — in mercy, shield him still ! 



a 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 83 

" Yes ! — in this lone, sepulchral gloom, 
" The sever'd spirit's living tomb, 

" One sympathy at least is mine ; 
" Though man desert — one single star 
" In blessed lustre beams afar 

" To gild the vale of life's decline. 
" My boy survives ; — Obscurity, 
" That hides his very name from me, 1810 

" Preserves him from the death's decree :. 
" That dubious lot, — that doubt, which pains 
" A mother's soul, — my soul sustains — 
" Praise to the Highest ! — Mercy flings 
" That healing from her radiant wings ; 
" My prayer accorded still ; — bereft 
" Of all beside, that balm is left ! 

" But who is there to share it ? — None 
66 Remains on earth — for thou art gone ! 
u And, since the boon of happiness 1820 

" Alone the mutual heart can bless, 
" Since thou, since thou hast bled for me, 
" Ah, wherefore died I not with thee ! 
" Wait for me, love ! — my Giaffier — dearest — 
" Thought of my soul, the loveliest, nearest ! 

o 2 



84 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



" Wait but awhile, — I come, — I come : — 

" Where art thou ? — Wherefore art thou dumb ? 

" Take me — oh ! take me from this spot — 

" I call to thee — thou answerest not ! 

66 Giaffier ! — my love; — my lord— my own ! 1830 

" Oh, Allah !— am I then alone? 

" How do I wander ! — Day by day 

" Now roird in peaceful lapse away : 

" We hoped, that dearer life secured, 

" The parting pang our lives assured ; 

" The horoscope of fate was cast, 

" And fondly told of peril past. 

" Oh, ignorance of art J — that tries 

" To read the wisdom of the skies, 

" And knowledge infinite to find 1840 

" Submitted to the bounded mind ! 

u He gazes on the stars w — nor knows 

" Where instant danger nearer grows, 

" But dares, in purblind pride, presume 

" To turn the course of coming doom ! 

" The very pains he takes to screen 

" But urges on the dread machine ; 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 85 

" In vain his power, his skill pretends ; 
" His caution vain 6 ' 6 when fate descends. 

" Despite of stars and mortal charm 1850 

" That strove to veil or soothe alarm, 

u Too long to constant fears resign'd 

" A secret terror filTd my mind. 

" Strange is the pulse that, 'mid repose, 

" And ere the busier brain conceive — 
" Presentient, coming evil knows 

" By distant signs that ne'er deceive. 
" The dark foreboding, justly deeming 
" All is not tranquil as in seeming ; 

The Isfar* presage, that pervades 1860 

The glimmering future's breaking shades, 

As each unfolding form of things 

Its impress on the senses flings, 
" And all the conscious soul imbues, 
u Slow darkening with their deepening hues. 

" My soul was dark — though Haroun's brow 
M As marble smooth and placid now, 

* Isfar, or morning twilight. 



a 



a 



86 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

" Might well my fears assuage : 
" Unwonted calm was in his air, 
" A. cold abstraction settled there : 1870 

" It was the holy thought of prayer 

" Resolved on pilgrimage. 
" My heart misgave me when he went — 
" I fear'd ; — yet trusted his intent. 

" Long was his stay at Mecca's shrine : 
" And though his eye no more oppress'd 

" My conscious soul : — though power divine 

" Was interposed 'twixt him and mine, 
" My soul was dark — I could not rest. 

" Taste, music, odours, feeling, gone — 1880 

" I only sought to be alone : 

" How welcome had oblivion been 

" The spirit from itself to screen ! 

" But when my wearied brain, o'erfraught 

" With fragments of disorder'd thought 

" Sunk into sleep — some fearful stroke 

" Of fate burst o'er me — crush'd me — woke — 

" To cloud-form'd shapes of woe again, 

6i A dark delusion — but in pain. 



( ANTO II. AUttASSAH. 87 

" A thousand strange, distempered gleams 1890 

" Of phantasy, disturbed my dreams, 

" Snatches of joy, arising fast, 

" Yet broken — and in sorrow cast : — 

" Dire omens, groans, and words of doom 

" Broke 67 from impenetrable gloom, 

" And prophet cries, and looks of hate, 

" Obscurely show'd impending fate. 

" Wandering through boundless darkness wild 

" I sought in vain my shrieking child ; 

" Or snatching him from monsters dread 1900 

" While my faint linibs in horror fled, 

" Incessant ills the pathway crossed ; 

" My feet in devious forests lost ; 

" My bark on shoreless ocean toss'd : 

" And when at length the wish'd-for day 

" Chased from the mind those shades away, 

" A deeper terror than of night 

" With darkness fill'd my waking sight. 

" Day lends a fatal light to men, 

" And vengeance seeks his victim then. 1910 

" Where'er I turn^, approaching woes 

" In phantasmaic shadows rose ; 

" And sights of blackness, death, and blood, 

" Before me, near me, round me stood — 



88 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

" Time changed, but still increased my grief; 
" Morn, evening, night — but no relief — 
" Joy — joy — Al Rashid came at last : 
" The bitterness of death was pass'd ! 

" Care disappoints the wish'd-for lot : 

" He was return'd; — I saw him not: 1920 

" Not thus his wont to keep away — 

" I augur'd ill from that delay ; 

" Yet rose a hope the heart to stay : 

" For weightier reasons might demand 

" The impulse of the master-hand. 

" Hour follow , d hour without a change — 

" What could Al Rashid thus estrange ? — 

" So changed — impatience scarcely bore 

" Absence of him, my dread before : 

" My slaves could gather nought without— 1930 

" The growing silence froze on doubt. 

" Days — days elapsed: — the long suspense 

" Rose into agony intense, 

" That madly deem'd the worst — the worst 

" Were welcome, so it would but burst. 

" Short-sighted worm ! — Impending fate 

u Big with thy doom, comes never late ! 



canto II. ABBASSAH. 89 

" Long sadness weigh'd upon niv heart : — 

" I sat within my bower apart 

" Absorb'd in care: with feelings wound 1940 

" To agony by every sound. 

" A far, faint footstep lightly sped — 

" Stole on my ear — approach^ my room, 
" And linger'd ; — well I heard the tread, 

" And felt it was the tread of doom ; 
" Yet rose to meet with bearing proud : 
" 'Twas Mesrour; — slow he came, and bow'd, 

" And kiss'd the carpet at my feet : — 
" Oft had the Caliph's messenger 
" In deep submission enter'd there 1950 

■* Before his lord ; — but ne'er till now 
" With boding, sad, dejected brow. 

" I felt my throbbing bosom beat ; — 

" Low, long he bent — nor moved — nor spoke — 
" How that pale gaze my heart unstrung ! — 
" My blood in creeping dullness clung, 
" While on his speech my spirit hung 
" Eye, ear, and sense ; — each soundless word 
" Writhed on his lip — and sunk, unheard : 

" At length, that pause my terrors broke, I960 



90 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



" * Comes then the Caliph ?'— 

' God (58 is great ! — 

" < The Merciful !— The Only Just !— 

" < Place in the Merciful thy trust ; 

" 6 Before Him, man is but as dust ! — 
u i Princess \ — \ bring the words of fate. - ' — 
" I glanced, and saw : — nor can forget 
" The scroll : — the fatal form 69 was set ! 

" Ask'st thou the doom of shame ? — Behold — 

" These chance-clad limbs — this rugged vest — 
" What woman's tongue would leave untold ; — 1970 
" Thy pity fain would spare the rest. 

" The mutes appear'd, with breasts of proof : 
" Unveird, with mockery of care, 
" And closely clipp'd my worthless hair, 
u Their ruthless hands my garments tore. 
" The good old eunuch knelt aloof, 
" Bow'd to the ground, and veil'd in shame, 
" While shuddering sorrow shook his frame : 
" He wept for me : — I could not weep — 

" No murmur'd sigh — no tear could start — 1980 
" It seem'd as passing in my sleep : — 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 91 

M I only knew I must depart, 

" And trembling, totter'd to the door. 

" One feeling filTd me — led me on — 
" All other faculty was gone ; 
" With yearning heart and failing feet 
" I rush'd in frenzy through the street 

" Where nothing cross'd my way — 
" Deserted — mute; — its crowds were gone; — 
" Through the long space I was alone — 1990 

" The wild-dogs 70 gnarled the offal bone, 

** I heeded not their bay — 
" They fled before my fatal speed ; 
" Man turn'd from me ; — I could not heed 

" Fear, sorrow, or surprise, — 
" One object wanted to my view, 
" To that — to that alone I flew 

" To hide my aching eyes. 
" He would receive my humbled head ; 

" No griefs could there intrude ; — 2000 

" I knew the path that onward led 

" To where his palace stood, 
" For there, full oft, in happier days, 
" My soul would turn, and love to gaze. 



92 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 



" With cheek too chill'd to flush with shame, 

" With bursting, panting heart I came, 
" To hide with Mm my dark despair. 
" 'Twas vanish'd — desert ! — nought was there — 
" Nought — but the sultry westward glare 
" Shone, sickening, through the yellow air 2010 
" On vacancy : — the space was bare — 
And yet — it was the same ! — 



Li 



" I gazed — and doubted : — Was I wrong ? — 
u Yes — yes : — misled by frenzies strong 
" I must have err'd : — I turn'd, retraced 
" My steps through Bagdad's living waste, 
u Bleeding and faint : my burning brain 
" Impell'd me, through unnoticed pain, 

" Of reason, pulse bereft ; 
" And long, and wild, the wandering vain 2020 

"But brought me to that place again, 

" The spot, so lately left : — 
" A weight lay on my sense ; — a cloud 
f Enveloped nature in its shroud : 
"Sightless I stood; — supine: — it burst — 
" At once I saw, and knew the worst ; 
" My soul foreboded from the first ! 



canto ir. ABBASSAH. 93 

" 'Twas razed ! — The hot, dull day-beam spread 
" Glared like a flambeau o'er the dead ! 
" I saw the omen : — saw my fate : — 2030 

" 'Twas desolate ! — 'twas desolate ! — 

u Earth held no more for me ! — My son ; — 
" My home ; — my husband ; — All was gone ! 
" No tie pain'd now the heart ; — no care ; — 
" It revell'd in one wide despair. 
" Bankrupt of fortune now, — unbow'd ; — 

" The worst had come — the worst was tried — 
" O'er its last fall stood triumph flusft'd : 
" Vengeance had fallen, but had not crush'd : 

" The soul its future rage defied : — 2040 

" Even of that pang convulsive proud, 
" Its bitter frenzy laugh'd aloud ; — 

(i What worse of evil could betide ? — 
" Wild, cold, th' unechoed laugh ; — it fell 

" On my own ear — a sad, strange sound, 

" A mockery of the inward wound, 

" Where nothing sympathised around : — 
" Enough : — 'twas earthly passion's knell ! — 
" The world might prosper as it might : — 
" I had no more to do with light ! 2050 



94 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



" I hasten'd from the scene to part : — 

" That spot unrecognised might be ; 
" His place, — his tomb, was in my heart— 71 

" And what was all beyond to me ? 
" I could not bear the hateful town : 

" Afar the Place of Slumber 72 stood ; 
" This was my place henceforth ; — to drown 

" Existence in its solitude. 
" I turn'd — a blackness, thick as night, 
" Outspread betwixt me and the light ; 2060 

" Yet seem'd, — where'er I bent my way, — 
" That barren space before me lay. 
" I moved with feeble, faltering tread ; 

" Paused at the bridge ; and bent below ; 
" There Teer's broad waters darkly spread ; 

" My soul was heavier than their flow — 

" Their rushing quicken'd but my woe : 
" I turn'd ; and saw, — nor scarcely knew, 

" So dun the shade my sorrow wore, — 
" Something that rested on my view, 2070 

" And faintly seem'd as known before. 
" Half heedlessly I scann'd it o'er : 
" Gazing, — methought those features bore 



CANTO II. ABB ASS AH. 95 

" Some semblance — deep in memory stored : — 
" Oh God ! I knew it, — knew too well — 

" 'Twas he: — my murder 'd — murder'd lord ! — 

" Oh ! save him — save him ! — wild I sprung — 

" There, — as his pallid visage hung 

" Fix'd to the bridge, — to that I clung: 

" Fast on my face the blood-drops fell — 2080 

" Stop — stop : — how thick these shadows swell ! 

" There, there — yes, now ! — the same bright beam — 

" Yon moonlight shows its ghastly gleam. 

" Giaffier ! — my soul — my heart — my life ! 

" 'Tis I that clasp thee — 'tis thy wife — 

" Thy wife, thy wife is come — her tear 

" Washes thy cheek ; — why art thou here ? 

" I come to tend thee — shun me not : 

" Thy doom— Oh ! let it be forgot ! 

" Rest thee, my love ! — Oh ! rest thee — rest, 2090 

" Nor fear not, on this sheltering breast— 

" 'Tis I — 'tis I that press thy cheek ; 

" 'Tis I that clasp thee — call thee — speak — 

" None here can part us : — yonder moon 

" Smiles on thee, love — 'tis midnight's noon — 

" It smiles — it smiles, as when we met — 

" Canst thou be silent ! — thou forget ! 



96 ABBASSAH. CANTO II. 

" The Stranger pities — turns away : — 

" Can love — can love, like life decay ? 

44 Here, on earth's bosom prostrate thrown 2100 

44 I hold thee yet — thou art my own. 

" His guards surround — but touch me not, 

" None dare profane thy chosen spot : 

44 Art thou not still his favourite ? — fear 

" Restrains them : — Dare they seek thee here ? 

44 I see — I feel that moonbeam warm 

44 That beams upon me through thy form, 

44 Ah ! brighter once — now grown so wan — 

u So faint, so faint — How ! — art thou gone ! — 

44 What ! — wherefore ! — Stand'st thou thus afar? — 

u Not in the grave thine ashes are — 2111 

44 My victim thou — since love could kill : — 

44 Thou shunn'st thy murderess — shun me still — 

" No — come to me ! — thy fear is vain : — 

" I cannot murder thee again. 

44 Then speak to me ! — but one, one word 

44 To tell me that my prayers are heard. 

44 If e'er my love to thee was dear, 

44 Answer me ! — say that thou dost hear ! — 

44 But whisper, whisper: — whisper low — 2120 

44 None but ourselves the secret know. 



CANTO II. ABBASSAH. 97 

" Off — touch me not — drag me not hence — 

" Ye kilPd him — but for my offence ! 

" I dug the grave for him to die ; 

" Here then, deserted, let me lie ! 

" Earth welcome ! — welcome, icy stone, — 

" Press, press this heart — its pulse is gone P 



Sleep, sleep in peace — poor, widow'd 73 flower ! 2130 

The hue of love thy bosom wore, 

The mystic doom thy spirit bore, 
Have sway'd thy life with fatal power : 

Thy being, waked from early sleep, 

Rose from the silence of the deep, 
Expanding in the morning hour 

To hail the glorious orb above, 

The burning lord of life and love : 
Then, radiant from the watery gloom 

And glowing in his fervid blaze, 2140 

Drank his warm glance with conscious gaze, 
And gladdened day with blushing bloom : 

H 



98 ABBASSAH. 



CANTO II. 



Each beam thy fond existence blest, 
Received, absorVd within that breast, 

So deeply, fondly cherish , d there ; 
As though beneath his light to be 
Were life and bliss enough for thee ! — 
Now, when his faint, receding ray, 
In darkness slowly dies away, 

And the last, lingering trace is gone 2150 

Of him, the loved, the worshipp'd one ; — 
In vain for thee unfolding night 
Unveils the fainter forms of light 

Whose colder lustre mocks despair ! 
Far, far below — oblivion's tide 

Receives and hides thy drooping soul, 
No more the fond, rejoicing bride ; 
No hope revives thy bosom's pride ; 
Unmark'd, unheeding all beside, 

While waves above for ever roll ! 



NOTES. 



(1.) " On Degfalas side."— Line 2, p. 1. 
The Degiala or Tigris flows through Bagdad, dividing the 
ancient and more modern towns. It was formerly called by 
the Persians Teer, or the Arrow, from the rapidity of its cur- 
rent, which flows at an average of seven knots an hour. 

(2.) " Yon darken'd speck — the Kufa boat." — Line 9, p. 1. 
The common wherry-boat at Bagdad, about seven feet in 
diameter, of a circular form, and made of willow-twigs : 
similar to those described in Herodotus, except that they are 
now overlaid with a bituminous substance, instead of the skins 
formerly used for this purpose. 

(3.) " Trusts to the waves his ozier float." — Line 11, p. 1. 

The Keleek, or raft used for carrying goods and passengers 
down the river from Moussul to Bagdad, is a ground-work of 
ozier twigs, with a low parapet of the same materials to keep 
off the water, and stretched out on a rough frame made of the 
trunks of trees ; the whole rendered more buoyant by sheep- 
skins inflated with air. 

I have ventured to appropriate the dtnaoi Kara tov irora^iov 
(pepeadai of the Greek historian. 

h2 



100 NOTES. 

(4.) " the immortal lay."— Line 108, p. 8. 
The Shah Nameh, or book of Kings, by Ferdousi the Per- 
sian Homer. This work, in a poem of sixty thousand beits 
or distichs, celebrates the ancient history of Persia, and is re- 
markable for the inexhaustible invention it displays. It was 
composed about the beginning of the eleventh century, from 
the collection of Persian annals found in the library of Yez- 
digird III., and employed the author for thirty, or, as some 
state, fifty years. It is the most celebrated work of the East ; 
and deserves to be known, in part^it least, to Europeans, and 
in a better form than the miserable imitation of Chapman. 

(5.) " Creation's earliest lords." — Line 128, p. 8. 

Previous to the creation of man, say the Oriental writers, 
the whole earth was ruled by a succession of forty monarchs, 
each of whom governed a different and monstrous race of 
creatures, endowed, however, with reason. The list closes 
with Gian-ben-Gian, sovereign of the Peris, whose pride and 
rebellion against heaven were punished by the descent of 
Eblis, afterwards Satan, with an etherial host, and who, after 
a three days' battle, defeated and deposed the presumptuous 
monarch, and governed in his place, till, refusing to own the 
supremacy of Adam, he was exiled with his adherents to hell. 

Some authors extend the number of Preadamite sultans to 
seventy-two, and the discrepancy of statements may be excused 
by the probable difficulty of obtaining authentic documents on 
the subject. The learned D'Herbelot states, doubtless on the 
best authority, that the gallery of Argenk in the caverns of 
Kaf, or Caucasus, contained the statues of seventy-two kings, 
and portraits of their subjects. I am sorry he has not given 
the names of the artists : but the discovery of this gallery 
might decide the question, and prove a valuable acquisition 



NOTES. 101 

to the British Museum, as well as rescue from oblivion the 
memory of their collector, who, for a demon and a giant, 
seems to have been no small amateur and patron of the fine 
arts, and whose antiquarian studies were indifferently rewarded 
when he fell beneath the power of king Thamuras, this con- 
queror having, it would appear, little taste for virtu. 

The above hint may merit the attention of the English 
Parliament, and any motion on the subject would doubtless be 
unanimously supported, and prove far more satisfactory than 
many of the items by which our ministers seek to impose on 
the good-natured credulity and pliant disposition of Mr. Hume. 

(6.) " Their height but seen as radiant clouds, 
" Their base, the veil of ages shrouds." 

Lines 137, 8, p. 9. 
This idea is taken from Mr. Bullock's description of the 
mountain Orizaba in Mexico, as seen from the sea. 

(7-) Here may thy thought the footsteps trace." 

Line 139, p. 9. 
Persian examples may be pleaded for thus interweaving the 
accounts of European and Asiatic writers, and blending in one 
series the names of Nimrod, Semiramis, and Sardanapalus, 
with three monarchs of the Pishdadian dynasty, Houshing, 
Thamuras, and Giamshid; as also Nebuchadnezzar and Bel- 
shazzar with Alexander and Mahommed. 

(8.) " There too is he — for contrasts born." — Line 164, p. 10. 
The historians of Sardanapalus were satisfied to take his 
character as drawn in probably exaggerated colours by the 
hand of an ambitious and designing subject, and in disregard 
or ignorance of the customs of his age and court. Yet the 
obnoxious maxim of the founder of Anchialus and Tarsus is 



102 , NOTES. 

echoed in the book that best sustains the renown of the He- 
brew Solomon ; (see Ecclesiastes, c. ii. v. 24.) and the seclusion 
from his subjects might be but the jealous policy of an eastern 
court, that considers the sovereign as a deity, and almost equally 
difficult of access. Painting, if I am not mistaken, the face, 
and certainly the brow, was usual amongst the Persian kings. 
But the indolent and effeminate Sardanapalus, after three 
times driving his rival from the field, and twice pardoning 
the rebellion of his vanquished subjects, and, when over- 
whelmed by priestcraft, treachery, and superstition, preferring 
the death of a king to the life of a slave, has served but to 
illustrate the remark of Montesquieu. " Les places qui donne 
la posterite sont sujettes, comme les autres, aux caprices de la 
fortune. Malheur a la reputation de tout prince qui est op- 
prime par un parti qui devient le dominant, ou qui a tente de 
detruire un prejuge qui lui survit !" 

(9.) " The Steed-compeller."— Line 181, p. 11. 
Houshing surnamed Pishdad, or the Just, from whom his 
dynasty received the name of Pishdadian. He was the first 
that tamed horses, brought water by aqueducts, or rather con- 
duits, planted groves, and built cities. He also instituted the 
worship of fire as a symbol of the divinity, having, like Pro- 
metheus, discovered it by the collision of flints, and called it 
The Light of God. 

(10.) " Thamuras."— -Line 197, p. 12. 
Thamuras, the successor of Houshing, was renowned for 
his warlike achievements. The arms of the Preadamite 
sultans, consisting of the Jubah or enchanted cuirass, the 
Teghi Atesh, or flaming sword, and the Sipar or impenetrable 
buckler, which were bequeathed by Gian-ben-Gian to Adam, 
and brought after the death of the latter from Serendib by 



NOTES. 103 

King Kaiomurs, became in time the inheritance of his heroic 
descendant. Thus armed, and rendered irresistible by the 
plumes of the Genii-bird Siinurgh, he was transported on its 
back to Ginnistan or fairy-land, where his presence had been 
solicited to rescue the Peri Mergian from the Deev or demon 
who held her captive. His complete success and repeated 
victories over those liends obtained for him the appellation of 
Deev-bund or chainer of Deevs. To the feathers worn on 
this occasion by Thamuras on his helmet the world is indebted 
for that ornament. 

(11.) " that mystic strain." — Line 211, p. 12. 

Giamshid the son of Thamuras, celebrated for his magni- 
ficence, and for the invention of luxuries. He was the possessor 
of the enchanted signet or ring, and first wore that ornament 
on his finger. He was master of the Genii, and learned music 
from their voices: he introduced the use of perfumes, jewels, 
and wine : discovered the magic mirror, or globe, that showed 
the owner all he wished to see: reformed the Kalendar by 
the use of the Solar year, and divided the people into four 
classes, viz. Priests, Accountants, Soldiers, and Labourers : he 
was likewise the great encourager of commerce. Istekar or 
Persepolis was built by the Genii of precious stones at his 
command. He Was worshipped as a God, and the festival of 
the New Year in Persia still commemorates the supernatural 
glories of his face. The epithet Skid signifies splendour. 

I need not remind the reader of the original idea, the 
" Scimitar of Mohammed." 

(12.) " That form of light, whose hallow' d head 
" The peacock's emerald plumes o'erspread." 

Lines 267, 8, p. 15. 
" My light is shining upon thy countenance." See the book 



104 NOTES. 

of Giamshid in the Desatir. The peacock was the symbol of 
regal splendour amongst the Assyrians. 

(13.) " Thick as the crowded shadows rose 
" Before the first of human-kind." 

Lines 290, 1, p. 16. 
Aben Abbas, a Mussulman doctor, asserts that the posterity 
of Adam, being too numerous for the earth to hold at once, 
appeared on this occasion under the form of ants. A late 
calculation makes the mass of all that have hitherto lived to 
fall considerably short of the magnitude of Arthur's Seat, 
Edinburgh : but calculation is the constant enemy of sublimity. 

(14.) " To thee, Oh King ! the warning spoke." 

Line 304, p. 16. 

" Oh ! King Nebuchadnezzar, to thee it is spoken ; the 

kingdom is departed from thee." Daniel, c. iv. v. 31. See 

also c. ii. v. 34; c. iii. v. 1, 2, 7; c. iv. v. 10, 11, 12, 15, 34. 

(15.) « Susa's thousand chiefs."— Line 321, p. 17. 
See Daniel, c. v. v. 1. 

(16.) " Yon western glow faint lingers yet."— Line 370, p. 19. 
The case in many parts of Asia at day-break. 

(17.) " the he-goat's horn."— Line 381, p. 20. 
Daniel, c. viii. v. 5, 6. 21. Oriental historians affirm that 
Alexander the Great was the rightful heir to the Persian 
crown, as being the elder brother of Darius Codomanus. 
They say that Darius, their common father, first espoused the 
princess of Roum (Greece), and that this princess, while 
pregnant with Alexander, was repudiated by the Persian, and 
sent back to Roum, where she married Philip. They farther 



NOTES. 105 

state the oracle to have declared that Alexander should live 
till (earth) beneath him was iron, and (heaven) above him 
gold: that he therefore considered himself immortal, till, 
fainting on the plains of Babylon, his attendant seated him 
on an iron cuirass, and held a golden shield over his head to 
screen him from the heat of the sun : that Alexander then 
first recognised the true meaning of the oracle, and died 
without entering Babylon. His body was enclosed in a 
golden coffin, and this also in one of Egyptian marble, by 
his mother's command, as the proudest memorial of his 
achievements. 

(18.) « could fear withstay."— Line 390, p. 20. 
Plutarch relates the warning of the soothsayers against 
Alexander's entering the city, and the omens that preceded it. 

(19.) " Doom'd at thine Irem's gate to swell, 
" The dread firman of Azrael." 

Lines 407, 408, p. 21. 
The bower of Irem was a terrestrial paradise, formed by 
order of Shedad, lord of Yemen, in disdain of Eden. Enormous 
treasures of silver, gold, and jewels, were lavished upon its 
structures and gardens ; and on its completion Shedad, mount- 
ing his horse, came with the kings, his attendants, to the gate. 
A loud and fearful cry struck them with terror ; and Azrael, 
the Angel pf Death, announced his fatal mission to Shedad : 
" Suffer me, at least," said the disappointed monarch, " to set 
my foot in the garden :" but the Angel replied, " It is not in 
my firman ;" and, as he was dismounting, snatched away his 
impious soul. From that time the bower of Irem disappeared, 
and has only been seen occasionally, in order to keep alive the 
memory of divine vengeance. 



106 NOTES. 

(20.) " Tis he, who onAl Merag's night ."—Line 431, p. 22. 
„1 y^\ The night of the ascension, or Mahomet's celestial 

journey : it is the 28th of the month Regib, which is the 3d 
of the Arabian year. — See the account of this journey. 

(21.) " Whose stagnant pools the breezes' sigh 
" Alone disturbs, or bittern's cry : — 
" Thou golden cup by nations drunk ! 
" Thou volume in the waters sunk !" 

Lines 464—7, p. 23. 
See Isaiah, xiv. 23, and Jeremiah, li. 7- 63. 

(22.) " Their courts resound thy courser's tread." 

Line 487, P- 24. 
See any account of these immense ruins. 

(23.) li Even childhood conscious strays." — Line 497, P- 25. 
I can never forget the delight experienced, even in infancy, 
when wandering by the light of an Oriental moon : the still 
scene, the pure atmosphere, the fullness of that silver glow, 
and its soft and sacred shadows. It was the loveliest glory of 
nature, and the companions of those moments have often re- 
curred to it since. 

(24.) « the Sunbur gloom."— Line 511, p. 26. 
The Sunbur is a single palm tree ; often planted in a burial- 
place. 

(26.) " Say, thou that tread'st this lonely vale." 

Line 533, p. 27- 
I have scarcely taken a liberty in introducing this con- 
versation between the stranger and Mundir. Mundir, that 



NOTES. 107 

faithful dependant of the Barmecides, who, when it was for- 
bidden under pain of death even to utter their name, never 
failed to extol their virtues aloud to all passengers. When 
condemned to death for this offence by the Caliph, he to his 
face persisted in recounting the generous acts of that unfor- 
tunate family ; and when the monarch, touched by his grati- 
tude, pardoned, and even rewarded, his devotion — f< Behold," 
said the unbending adherent, " another favour from the 
Barmecides !" 

(27.) « Kathay."— Line 570, p. 28. 
China. 

For Wangi, in next line but one, read Zadgi, the Chinese 
sea. 

(28.) « Maghrabeen."— Line 573, p. 28. 
Western : African. 

(29, 30.) " But close the doors of secresy, 

" Nor own the camel passed by thee." 

Lines 586, 587, p. 29. 
" Be the careful porter of thy lips, which are the doors of 
the house of silence." — Persian maxim. 

" If you are asked, Have you seen the camel pass ? answer, 
No." An Arabic injunction to secresy : its illustration will 
be familiar to those who remember the chapter of the Horse 
and the Dog in Zadig. 

(31.) " from Kaf to Kaf."— Line 630, p. 31. 
An Orientalism to express the whole extent of the world, 
supposed to be surrounded by Mount Kaf or Caucasus. 



108 NOTES. 

(32.) " the queen of light."— Line 634, p. 31. 
The sun is generally feminine, the moon masculine, in 
Arabic. 

(33.) " as yon bough."— Line 660, p. 32. 
The branches of the linden long since suggested the idea, 
which I subsequently found in the Arabian romance of Antar. 
" She moves, I should say it was a bough of the cypress, 
waving its branches in the southern breeze." — See Hamilton's 
translation, vol. i. 

(34.) « admiring Mecca hailed."— Line 666, p. 33. 
The most approved poems were written upon silk in golden 
characters, and suspended with great solemnity in the caaba, 
or temple of Mecca. 

(36.) " the throne of earth was thine !" — Line 674, p. 33. 
" Moon of Canaan," says the enamoured Zuleikha to her 
lover, " the throne of Egypt is thine own." 

(37.) " Even while he bends the knee, declines." 

Line 679, p. 33. 
The ancient Ghebers worshipped the sun at his setting. 

(38.) " Doom'd to that ordeal of the flame."— Line 777, P- 37- 
The fiery ordeal is mentioned in the Shah Nameh, as 
proving the innocence of Siavush in a love affair. 

(39.) " One sound, recall' d from spheres of bliss." 

Line 825, p. 39. 
" Perhaps the sadness of men, otherwise happy, on seeing 



NOTES. 109 

beautiful forms and listening to sweet melody, arises from 
some faint remembrance of past joys, and the traces of con- 
nexions in a former state of existence." — Sacontala. 

(40.) " the blood that froze 

" In his cold veins." — Lines 850, 851, p. 41. 
The previous indifference of Jaifier to women is stated as a 
fact, and an additional inducement for the Caliph's confidence. 

(41.) " Love tore the maiden's veil away." 

Line 872, p. 42. 
" Impetuous love tore away from Zuleika the veil of mo- 
desty."— H afiz. 

(42.) " In faith's polluted semblance came 
" To desecrate the shrine of flame." 

Lines 894, 895, p. 43. 
While the true believers tolerated the Gheber worship at 
Herat, a zealous Mosleman would often disguise himself in 
order to approach and profane the altars of the sacred fire. 

(43.) " What reck'd he then who stood around ?" 

Line 950, p. 45. 
Eastern propriety imposes the most complete self-restraint 
upon all dignitaries in public, where the slightest visible 
emotion is deemed indecorous. 

(44.) " We felt its awe, and durst not gaze." 

Line 971, p. 46. 
There are few, perhaps, who have never experienced this 
substitute sensation for sight. 



110 NOTES. 

(45.) " Noblest of the noblest race."— Line 1032, p. 48. 

The family of the Barmecides ranked next in dignity and 
consideration to the royal blood, as being lineally descended 
from the Persian kings ; possessed of large estates in Arabia 
and Persia ; and illustrious for their talents and munificence, 
— their public and private virtues. 

After the disgrace and death of Giaffir, his father and three 
brothers perished in prison, and their estates were confiscated. 
Some writers have imagined that their immense possessions, 
and the estimation in which they were universally held, 
excited the jealousy of the caliph. The Barmecides bore their 
disgrace with the equanimity that had sustained them in 
better fortune. Their fall was considered a general calamity : 
and, according to an Oriental writer, they enjoyed the singular 
felicity of being loved as much in the plenitude of their power 
as in a private station ; and of being praised as much after 
their disgrace as when they were at the summit of their 
prosperity."— Carlisle's Specimens of Arabian Poetry. 

(46.) " fortune's signet seal thy fate." 

Line 1052, p. 49. 
The signet, usually worn as a ring, stamps the writer's 
name at the bottom of letters, instead of the autograph, cus- 
tomary in Europe. 

(48.) " its gusts alight 

In burning blast, or mildew blight." 

Lines 1240 and 1241, p. 58. 

The wind, called by the Arabs Simoom, or burning poison, 

and Sumbuli, or humid poison, blows in alternate hot and 

cold gusts, from one to seven successive days, and with in- 






NOTES. Ill 

tervals of from three to fifteen days, from the middle of June 
to nearly the end of September. 

(49.) * Akarkouf s wasted pile."— Line 1243, p. 58. 
The probable ruins of the town of Babel form " a lonely 
and huge dark mass, rising like an enormous rock, which the 
natives call Akarkouf." The " horizon to the west presented 
the top of a high, dark object, opposed to the pale, golden hue 
of the descending sun. From its shape and situation I sup- 
posed it to be the Tepesse of Akarkouf." 

Sir R. K. Porter's Travels, vol. i. 

(50.) « What ashes fallen on my head !"— Line 1268, p. 59. 
An expression of calamity familiar to all readers of Haji 
Baba. 

(51.) " The volumed essence increate." 
The Koran, which the Mahommedans believe to have 

existed eternally in the ^clbs^ ^Vc- or Universal Infinity, 

\ 
being a part of the Divine Essence, and consequently un- 
created. Such at least was the tenet of the orthodox Sunnites, 
and, what is much more, of the court, in the reign of the 
caliph Haroun Alrashid. 

(52.) se As bright — as far my hopes above." 

Line 1360, p. 63. 
" Oh ! thy face is as the full moon of heaven, allied to 
light, but far above my hopes !" — Antar, vol. i. 

C{ Do we gaze on the new moon in hopes of obtaining it ?" 

Sacontala. 



112 NOTES. 

(53.) " As Yazid in the circle's bound/'— Line 1390, p. 65. 

These singularly superstitious followers of Jesus will, if 

a circle is drawn round them by any one, remain in their 

actual attitude, even till death, unless the same hand effaces it. 

(54.) F That night-mare charm."— Line 1396, p. 65. 
a»3V^. explained as the night-mare, more properly signifies 
an absorption of the faculties. 

(55.) " Faltered and died upon my tongue." 

Line 1410, p. 65. 
I need not recal the celebrated Sapphic, to which the passage 
in Abu Mohammed, given in Carlyle's Specimens, bears strong 
resemblance. 

(56.) " So the cold stream of fabled fame, 
" Gave to the torch its fiery flame." 

Lines 1499 and 1500, p. 69. 
The fountain of Dodona in Greece. Many of the authors, 
opinions, and fictions of Greece and India, were known to the 
Arabs in the time of Haroun Alrashid. 

(57-) u the sage, whom earth obey'd." — Line 1513, p. 70. 
Solomon, the son of David, who, according to the Oriental 
historians, ascended the throne at the age of twelve, and 
governed, not only mankind, but also the good and evil genii, 
the winds, and the whole race of birds. 

(58.) " Sent in vengeance from above." — Line 1525, p. 71* 

The Mahometan version of the " Loves of the Angels" 
states, that Harut and Marut were sent to punish mankind ; 



NOTES. 113 

but, falling in love with an earthly beauty, they, to gain 
her favour, confided to her the mysterious words that raised 
them through the air. The lady employed the information to 
ascend to Heaven, and complained of the conduct of the two 
Angels. The Deity, to reward her, made her the morning 
star ; while the two delinquents were suspended by the heels 
in a well or cavern under the plains of Babylon, there to 
remain till the day of judgment. Their groans are frequently 
heard. 

(59.) " Bound captive in thy captive's chain." 

Line 1539, p. 71. 

The love of the Prophet for his Egyptian slave Mary, 

greatly scandalized his wives and the faithful, till the angel 

Gabriel descended with a chapter of the Koran, expressly 

allowing these amours. 

(60.) u the Serab betrays."— Line 1576, p. 73. 
The white vapour of the desart, which at some distance so 
perfectly resembles water in every respect, has become with 
the Arabs the synonime of disappointment. 

(61.) " Zingian s fountain."— Line 1674, p. 77. 
The fountain of immortality, situated in an unknown island, 
and which restored to youth those who had the good fortune 
to drink of it. 



(62.) " constrain 

" Its withered flower to bloom agi 

The rose of Palestine, if taken up from the ground and 



" Its withered flower to bloom again." 

Line 1677, p. 77- 






114 NOTES. 

kept perfectly dry even for years, will, it is affirmed, recover 
and bloom, if the root is immersed in water for some time. 

(63.) " Thou Keblah ! — where the spirit turned !" 

Line 1729, p. 79. 
The point to which Mohammedans turn in prayer. Gene- 
rally understood of the temple at Mecca. 

(64.) " The glass of Iskendar was broken." 

Line 1733, p. 80. 
A talismanic glass or mirror placed by Alexander the Great 
on the Pharos of Alexandria, and on the preservation of which 
depended the prosperity of the city. These talismans showed 
the possessor all he wished to know, past, present, or future : 
the destruction of the mirror, therefore, was a privation of the 
insight into futurity. The glass of Iskendar, says D'Herbelot, 
was in fact broken shortly previous to the capture of Alex- 
andria by the Arabs, in the nineteenth year of the Hegira. 

(65.) " He gazes on the stars." — Line 1842, p. 82. 

" Giaffir un peu avant sa mort, voulant aller chez le Khalife, 

consulta ses ephemerides pour observer un terns favorable 

Un homme qui ne le voyoit point, passant en batteau, recitoit 
ces vers en Arabe : 

" II se gouverne par les etoiles, et il ne songe pas que Dieu 
est le maitre des etoiles, et que sa volonte s'accomplit toujours 
infailliblement. 

" Giaffir n'eut pas plutot entendu ces paroles qu'il jetta ses 
ephemerides et son astrolabe par terre, monta au cheval pour 
aller au palais, et y trouva, peu de terns apres, sa mort." 

B'Herhelot. 



NOTES. 115 

(66.) " His caution vain, when fate descends." 

Line 1847, p. 84. 
" The nightingale answered, when fate descends caution is 
vain." — See Cafedhi's Fable. 

(67.) " Dire omens, groans, and words of doom, 
" Broke from impenetrable gloom." 

Line 1893-4, p. 86- 
" Hinc exaudiri voces, et verba vocantis 
u Visa viri, nox cum terras obscura teneret." 

Virgil, Mn. book iv. 

(68.) " God is great."— Line 1961, p. 89. 

\~\i £Ugi An exclamation denoting that He can avert 
calamity. 

(69.) " the fatal form was set."— Line 1967, p. 89. 

The three characters, *-^ j\ ^***r' &aJ »(» * »« J e In the 

name of the most merciful God," prefixed to a mandate, re- 
quire for it instant and implicit obedience, as testifying, like 
our oaths, a deliberate act. 

(70.) The wild- dogs gnarled the offal bone." 

Line 1991, p. 90. 
The Mahommedans, who hold dogs in abhorrence, allow 
them nevertheless to swarm in their cities, where they feed 
upon the offals. 

(71.) " His place — his tomb was in my heart." 

Line 2053, p. 93. 

Where should her tomb be, but in my heart ? 



•%< 



116 NOTES. 

(72.) « Place of Slumber."— Line 2056, p. 93. 
<L$JCj \ )b Daralneemaht, the city or place of slumber : 
the burying-ground. 

(73.) " poor, widowed flower !"— Line 2130, p. 97- 
The Lotos, which raises its head above the waters at sun- 
rise, and sinks again at sunset, was consecrated to the sun by 
the Egyptians, as Mr. Moore remarks ; see Odes and Epistles, 
vol. ii. Nor was this estimation peculiar to that people : the 
Brahmins, who hold it equally sacred, consider the colours 
allegorical, and regard the marks upon its breast as mysterious 
characters, intelligible only to the Deity. 



THE END. 



LONDON : 

PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. 



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